Lost Cause
by detective-wiseass
Summary: Life demands to be lived on life's terms. People have so many creative ways of trying to avoid the struggle, but feelings as strong as these cannot – will not – be ignored forever. It sometimes seems that we come to understand things much too late, but it's important to remember the circumstances are never as hopeless as they seem. I promise you a Rizzles ending and I will deliver.
1. Chapter 1

She was fidgeting again as they both stood over the autopsy table.

Maura sighed quietly. They'd had so many difficult heart-to-heart discussions in the morgue, what was one more? "Jane, it has been pretty clear since this morning that you have something on your mind you want to tell me." She punctuated the statement with direct eye contact and raised eyebrows.

"'So spill,' is what you're saying," Jane replied.

Maura nodded. "Yes, that is what I'm saying." She put the scalpel down and pointed to Jane's hands. She was twisting and wringing them, pressing and rubbing the scars. "They only bother you this much when it's cold or when you're really nervous about something."

Chagrinned, Jane abruptly dropped her hands and averted her gaze. Maura knew her so damn well. Too damn well.

In the silence while Jane gathered her thoughts, Maura picked up her scalpel and resumed her incision. Occasionally, she would raise her eyes to check if Jane was ready to speak.

Jane finally lifted her head and smiled sheepishly. "I…I talked to Casey last night."

"And?" Maura didn't look up this time.

_Odd_, Jane thought. But she plunged ahead anyway. "And I gave him my answer." She waited, needing some reaction, any reaction. Maura had yet to look at her once she mentioned Casey, and it was throwing Jane off.

The medical examiner finished her incision, laid the scalpel on the table, and raised her head. "What did you say?" She loathed the hopeful flutter in her stomach, hated the way her pulse accelerated as she anticipated the improbable possibility.

"I said…yes."

And there it was. The inevitable truth. Maura had been striving to come to terms with the likelihood that her best friend – and, coincidentally, the love of her life – would soon cleave herself to a man who frankly didn't deserve her. What was more, he didn't know her. Not like Maura knew her. He hadn't spent the time to really learn about her, to understand who she is in her entirety. _What he knows is his sexual attraction to her and a superficial admiration of her as an individual. _Not that he could entirely be faulted for not taking the time to really get to know Jane. The Army so often called him away overseas, the kind of day-in, day-out intimacy that needed to happen for a long-term, monogamous relationship to be successful was physically impossible for Casey. Maura did not entirely blame him for this. What she could not overlook, however, was his manner of proposing by way of ultimatum. It didn't take a medical degree to see that this was not the preface to a healthy, lasting relationship.

Her stomach clenched.

"Maura?" Jane was staring at her, curiosity and concern drawing her brows together. "What are you thinking right now?"

Her skin felt cold. "You're getting married."

Jane gave a nervous smile. "Yes, Maura. I'm getting married to Casey. Are you okay?"

"Yes!" Maura forced a bright smile that was painfully obvious, no doubt, and pulled off her gloves. "I'm fine!" She even brought herself to touch Jane's arm on her way out and said, "Congratulations, Jane. I'll…I'll be right back." And she whisked toward the double doors. She hoped Jane hadn't felt her fingers trembling as she made her escape.

_You are Doctor Maura Isles, ME, _Maura told herself as she hurried to the restroom. _Calm, composed. Unflappable. Queen of the Dead. _She burst into the nearest stall, locked herself in, and sagged against the wall.

In her wake, Jane was left standing at the autopsy table alone, a crease of confusion deepening between her brows and a disappointed slump to her shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, any feeble hopes that reduced the marriage conversation to a mere nightmare died. Jane came to work with an engagement ring on her finger. It was not in her nature to flaunt it; indeed, she seemed to go to great lengths to avoid mentioning it to anyone, but Maura noticed.

Since their earliest acquaintance, Jane's hands held a fascination for Maura, so much so that she habitually observed the most subtle and delicate of their movements. Slender and graceful, it did not matter that Jane never wore jewelry out of practicality. Such splendid bone structure required no adornment. But now that a simple engagement band graced Jane's left hand, it was all Maura could do to keep her eyes from it. She could not – figuratively speaking – wrap her mind around the fact that Casey's hands and not hers had put that ring on Jane's finger.

Jane tried not to notice the direction of Maura's gaze, but the two of them had long been so attuned to each other, she noticed almost every time. After work that evening, she gently confronted Maura about it over wine. She thought it might help clear the elephant from the room if they simply addressed this strange, puzzling, newfound awkwardness for what it was. It didn't take long for the opportunity to present itself.

As Jane lifted her glass to her lips, Maura's eyes fixated on the ring. Jane's dark gaze hung on Maura's face for a moment before reaching over to set the glass aside, breaking her friend's troubling trance. "Weird, isn't it?" she said, dropping both hands into her lap and slowly, absently rotating the band on her dominant ring finger. "Plenty of guys in the bullpen today said they never thought they'd see me wear one of these." She gave a dry chuckle, trying her best to open the topic for peaceful discussion.

Maura hesitated. "It is…different." She sighed. _I may never get accustomed to it. _"And given how much time and energy you've spent over the years cultivating the reputation that you have now…"

"What part of my reputation do you mean?" Jane fought to keep the frown from her face, but her head still tilted slightly to the side, uncertain. She reached for her wine glass again, eyes never leaving Maura.

Maura gestured noncommittally. "Just that…well, you are a strong, independent, and established professional." Jane raised her glass slightly in acknowledgement of this. A faint smile graced her lips. "You are a woman with a clearly defined career as her priority. Everyone understands this to be the…template, if you will, for who Jane Rizzoli is. Given this general understanding, it would make sense that some of your colleagues might find it…" she trailed off, searching for an appropriate adjective.

"Disconcerting?" Jane provided.

"Unexpected."

Jane considered this a moment, forehead creasing. Maura quashed the urge to reach over and smooth the furrows with her fingertips. Evidently reaching a verdict after a brief mental deliberation, Jane shrugged and lifted one eyebrow. "Fair enough. I guess that makes sense when you phrase it like that."

Maura managed a small smile, gratified that she could make herself understood.

"I guess…more to the point, I was wondering what _you _think. How _you _feel, Maura. That's more important to me than any of the guys."

Maura had to take a moment to collect herself. Jane didn't know how she affected the medical examiner. How could she? She didn't grasp the impact her words had in conversations like this. The thought that Jane would say, so simply and frankly, that Maura's thoughts and feelings toward the situation were of such value to her nearly brought her to tears. _Just tell her._ Maura thought._ Just get it out. You will at least be relieved of the burden and feel better for it._ And she almost did. She felt the words trade places with the wine on her tongue.

_I love you, Jane. I'm in love with you and I think you're making a huge mistake. _

But Jane's eyes on hers made her hesitate and rethink the impulse. Dark, warm, questioning eyes that sought reassurance, searched her face for it. Maura remembered then that this was as new – if not more so – for Jane as it was for Maura. The last thing her best friend needed now was an emotional wrench thrown in the works, and by the one person she trusted to keep her grounded through all this.

"I'm," she scanned her vocabulary once again for just the right adjective, "pleased. I'm pleased, Jane. That is, I'm happy if you are happy." Jane's expression remained doubtful. Maura hoped desperately that her physiology wouldn't betray the lie just this once. Seeing the uncertainty hadn't completely melted away from Jane's expression, Maura took her hand – her right hand, in an unconscious effort to avoid direct contact with the unsavory truth – and brushed her thumb across the back of it. The caress lingered each time it passed over the old, familiar scar. Whether she was conscious of it or not, Maura always paid special attention to Jane's scars whenever their hands happened to meet in a gesture of mutual affection. It was her way of conveying, beyond words, the equal value she placed on all aspects of Jane's being. _Casey will never understand her. Not completely. Not enough. _"You know all I want for you is to be happy."

She hoped these last few truths would be enough to counterbalance all the lying it seemed she'd been doing lately. No wonder Jane had begun to notice how "off" she was. Dishonesty, however slight, always took its toll.

Now Jane looked close to tears. She smiled and nodded. Neither of them had a word that quite encompassed this particular emotion of being moved to something that transcended the most profound happiness. But they felt it in moments like this, sharing their love and appreciation for one another. "I know." Jane ducked her head, then, suddenly shy. "And that means the world to me," she concluded, voice barely above a whisper.

And again, Maura found she had to look away for a moment and remember to breathe. Her heart constricted, and though she didn't realize it, she tightened her grip ever so slightly on Jane's hand. Jane felt it and couldn't help wondering what was truly bothering Maura. Sensing she'd asked enough questions of the doctor for the night, Jane just returned the squeeze on instinct, as holding Maura's hand seemed the most natural and sufficient thing she could be doing in that moment.

And all Maura could think was, _I'm so afraid to let go._


	3. Chapter 3

Wedding plans and preparation came hard and fast. Casey felt he had waited long enough for this time in their lives, and felt no reason to postpone their union any longer. Jane was a perpetual bundle of nerves, and stressed in a way that Maura had never seen before in the detective.

"Maura, I need you."

The medical examiner's eyes darted up from her computer with wide hazel eyes, brows arched.

"I need your help." Jane had dark circles under her eyes again. Her raven hair framed her face with wild tangles, its dark shade contrasting with her unusually pale face. Maura wondered if all this new stress was causing her detective's subconscious to revisit old nightmares.

_Not _my _detective, _she admonished herself. _She was never mine, nor will she ever be now._ Quelling the heaviness that had settled in her abdomen, Maura wheeled her computer chair away from her desk. "Anything, Jane. What's this about, what can I do?" She took a couple of steps toward Jane, looking her in the eye, hoping to ground her. She only briefly allowed herself to entertain the idea of having Jane stay the night so that she could sleep.

Jane looked like she didn't even know where to start. She drew herself up a little, straightening regal shoulders and lifting her chin ever so slightly. She held that posture for a second or two, clearly ordering her words before opening her mouth – a process she wasn't in the habit of engaging in. Abruptly, she relinquished any semblance of calm and cut to the chase. "I need – that is, I would _like _very much if you would…" she let out a breath, struggling.

Struggling with what, Maura couldn't even begin to speculate.

"If I would…what, Jane? I'll do anything you ask." _Oh dear, that sounded desperate._ "I want to help."

Jane continued to hesitate, drawing a breath and then faltering and letting it out. Maura was at a loss as to what Jane was grappling with that made it so difficult to ask. When Jane began twisting the engagement ring on her finger, Maura nearly seized her hand to make her stop fidgeting. It was making her nervous.

"Jane, whatever it is, I am your best friend and it couldn't possibly be above or beneath my ability or willingness to help you. Just tell me." Her brows drew together in concern, and she resisted the compulsion to take Jane's hand in both of her own. She looked closer, wondering again what it was that Jane found so hard to give voice to. "What can I do?" she whispered.

Jane took a minute step back from the medical examiner but maintained eye contact. Another moment passed, and she finally opened her mouth. Her voice cracked endearingly when she spoke, and Maura again felt an impulse to touch her, reassure her. "Maura, would you be the…maid of honor?" Then she huffed almost imperceptibly and corrected herself. "_My _maid of honor?"

Synapses fired in rapid succession and an intensely tangled knot of thoughts and emotions tumbled about and bumped every wall within Maura's psyche. Of course Jane would ask her to be the maid of honor in her wedding. She needed help with all the planning, and…_I am her best friend. Who else would she ask? _Then, a moment later, _But why was that so hard for her to say? _Maura tilted her head quizzically to one side, an involuntary quirk of movement that prompted Jane to elaborate.

"It's just," Jane ran her fingers through the tangled mess of her hair, "Ma's been driving me nuts trying to get stuff planned and prepared." Jane held up a hand to qualify. "And she's been a world of help, don't get me wrong, but she – I'm going crazy with her constant – "

Then Maura couldn't resist reaching for Jane's wrist, slowing the tide of words. "She only wants to help, Jane. She's your mother and she loves you." Maura nearly gasped when she realized how cold Jane's hands were. Her circulation patterns had undoubtedly altered in her body's efforts to cope with exhaustion.

The detective nodded. "I know. But she gets – she's been driving me up the wall for the past forty-eight hours. More so than usual." Her eyes flew wide in exasperation and flitted about the room. "When we fought last night –"

"You fought with Angela?" Maura was aghast. Jane and her mother frequently had disagreements, but they rarely dissolved into intense confrontation.

Jane's speech pattern accelerated as she explained herself. "Yeah, we actually got into a fight about it, Maura." She grew quiet for a moment, and added almost as an aside, "I said some things –" then she regained momentum, "but I apologized for them later. "Which is why I'm asking you now; she brought it up, demanding to know why in the hell I hadn't asked you yet because if I don't want to deal with her, then the next best person to help with wedding plans is my best friend – the maid of honor always helps the bride plan and stuff." She slumped with a heavy sigh, exhausted from getting riled up all over again.

The unflappable Chief ME was reeling inside. She couldn't determine whether, given the circumstances, standing next to Jane at the altar was the best or the worst alternative to standing face-to-face with her, exchanging rings and vows.

And with the woman she loved more than anything standing in front of her now, exasperation on her pale face and an anxious question in her eyes, Doctor Maura Isles flat had no idea what to say.


	4. Chapter 4

"Maura, you really are a lifesaver."

The medical examiner managed a quasi-convincing smile at Angela Rizzoli's breathless remark. So much needed to be done. She already had Frankie and Tommy busy schlepping wedding decorations while she bustled around town – and, incidentally, around Jane's condo - making last-minute arrangements.

It had been two months since Jane had initially approached Maura with her maid-of-honor request. Maura had taken a day to think, and that 24-hour period had been one of the most gut-wrenching of Jane's life. In the moments before Maura came to give her an answer, Jane had been on the brink of calling everything off, thinking there was no way she could make it through this process without Maura at her side.

But while the detective had been immensely relieved that her best friend was still there for her, the strangeness that had materialized between them never dissipated. Jane didn't understand it, nor did she question it. She hardly had the headspace to spare for puzzling out the shifting dynamic of her relationship with Maura. She put up with this new, disconcerting element because she felt it was all she could do.

The detective rounded the corner from her bedroom into the kitchen and gave a subtle start at the sight of her main living area. Every available surface area was overrun with billowing miscellany in white and deep rose – her chosen wedding colors. She met Maura's eyes with an expression that said very clearly, "I have yet to grow accustomed to all this…_froth _taking over my condo." Maura couldn't help her half-hearted smile growing larger and more sincere at the sight of Jane. Maura remained frustrated that Jane was marrying a man that Maura knew caused her more stress than joy, but her love for, and loyalty to the detective trumped any resentment.

Jane returned the smile, eyes crinkling at the corners and dimples deepening. She reached for Maura's arm and gave it a grateful squeeze. With a meaningful glance in her mother's direction, she murmured, "Thanks for coming."

Maura nodded. Briefly laying her fingers over Jane's, wishing she could capture and keep them there for as long as she wanted. "Of course, Jane." She was the best friend and maid of honor, it was both her duty and her pleasure to help in any way she could. Just so long as she didn't dwell overmuch on the fact that these preparations were for Jane's union with Casey. She looked to Angela. "What can I do?"

"Actually, Maura, we need an extra pair of eyes for the final fitting," Angela said. "Your eyes, specifically. Our appointment is in a half hour, and with traffic we'll probably need that long to get there."

Maura's eyes snapped to Jane's as if drawn by magnets. Jane froze where she stood, held Maura's gaze as though incapable of looking away. They both felt the tremendous portents of this moment, but neither of them could pinpoint why it weighed so heavily on them both.

Maura drew an expectant breath, anticipating the typical Jane Rizzoli sarcastic addendum to her mother's logistical nattering.

But the acerbic Rizzoli wit was not forthcoming. Instead, Jane could only offer the identical twin of the noncommittal shrug and quirk of the brow that she gave the day she recounted Casey's ultimatum.

Maura's stomach dropped. She felt suddenly lighter than air, as if everything of substance that kept her solid had been sucked from her body. And she felt unbearably heavy with the need to seize Jane's face with both hands and kiss the breath out of her. In her mind, she did just that.

In body, she dutifully waited for Jane to open the door for her so she could pass through.

The detective had made her choice. And now a dress needed its final fitting.


	5. Chapter 5

_Maura lengthened her stride slightly to keep pace with Jane. "Are you sure you want to go this far today?"_

_They rounded a corner and jogged into the park. Maura realized that she paid significantly less attention to her surroundings when Jane was at her side. But there was something about the subtle change in the gritty sound of sneaker soles impacting asphalt that never failed to alert Maura to the change of scenery._

_Jane huffed in between steady breaths. "My ankle's fine now, Maura. It'll hold." The untrained ear would fail to catch the note of tender amusement beneath the irritation and bravado. But Maura had years of practice in the art of discerning Jane's many nuanced vocal inflections. One glance to her left won her a flicker of that gentle, indulgent smile that she'd come to depend on. Maura postulated that she'd come as close as she ever would to confirming her long-standing suspicion: Jane secretly cherished Maura's endless litany of concerns for the detective's health and safety._

_Jane snuck a peek at Maura, amused smile morphing into a devious grin. _

_Wary of what mischief her friend might be concocting, Maura's eyebrows drew together even as she cautiously returned that winsome smile. _

_The rhythm of Jane's stride shifted slightly. "I'm on to you, Doctor."_

"_What could you possibly have to suspect me of, Jane?"_

_Jane turned her gaze to the fork in the trail ahead of them. "You're not worried about my ankle at all." _

_Before Maura could be affronted and argue to the contrary, Jane had launched into a hearty sprint down the lane that led into the trees, ponytail bouncing. She shouted over her shoulder, "You're just afraid if I decided to _really _run, you wouldn't be able to keep up!" _

"_Jane!" Maura mock-whined. "That's not fair!" She chased after Jane, feeling the endorphins begin to flow as she entered the shade of the tree-lined path. She was fully grinning by the time she caught up with Jane._

_They maintained their brisk pace for several more strides before Jane made an executive decision and pulled back. The decrease in speed happened more suddenly than Maura anticipated, and she overshot Jane by a few steps before she got her momentum in check. When she turned around, Jane was leaning over, appearing to reach for her recently healed ankle. _

"_You shouldn't have gone so far, or so fast," Maura admonished softly as she approached. _

_Jane immediately straightened. Hands moved to slender hips and her brows narrowed at the medical examiner. "Maura, I told you, it's fine."_

_Maura tried not to stare too obviously at Jane's posture – her left knee bent slightly to compensate for weakness in the ankle. "And I was – am – inclined to disregard your claims of a sound talofibular ligament." Maura mirrored the detective's defensive stance, arms akimbo. "And judging by the unequal distribution of weight in your current posture, I think it's fair to say I'm –" _

"_It's _my_ ankle, Maura! I think I'd know!" Jane's voice was pitched with rising frustration._

"_I agree," Maura said, disarming the detective with her concurrence and earnest eye contact. "I think you do know, and if you actually heeded the subtle pain signals your ankle has been sending your brain since we started this run, you would not have taken off like you did just then. Nor would you have pushed yourself to cover the distance that we've already come. I would've been much more comfortable with you stopping closer to halfway through our route. But you decided to be obstinate, and –"_

_Jane flapped her hand in exasperation. "Okay, okay, Maura. I get it!" She conceded further by acknowledging the pain in her ankle, doubling over to gingerly massage it. After a moment, she shot an irate glare up at the medical examiner. "If you would've been happy stopping halfway through, why didn't you pipe up?"_

"_Would you have listened?" Maura cocked a skeptical brow at her._

"_Yes!" Maura's eyebrow rose even higher. "No," Jane amended, hanging her head. "Point taken," she mumbled._

_Satisfied, Maura let her off the hook. She leaned down and touched Jane's elbow. "Can you walk back?"_

_An exasperated sigh came in response. "Yes, I can walk." At least this time Jane refrained from insisting she was "fine."_

_Maura's hand traveled to her upper arm and stayed there as they turned around and began to retrace their route. After a few minutes, Jane folded her arms and rested her hand on top of Maura's. The medical examiner suppressed a smile. "I still don't fully grasp why you do this to yourself." _

_Jane frowned quizzically, but rather than question, she let Maura elaborate in her own time._

"_Why you push into things when you're not ready. When you clearly know the circumstances obviously aren't right for the choice you're making. Sometimes I think I understand – at least in part. But other times…Jane, you're still so…"_

_Picking up where she trailed off, Jane concluded ruefully, "Deceptively complex?"_

_Laughter sprung naturally from Maura's throat as Jane finished the sentence for her, quoting the medical examiner's own words, from years ago, back to her._

Standing in the wings of the chapel, bouquet in hand, Maura very deliberately shook herself from her reverie. The seemingly terminal wait for the procession to begin had opened the door for her mind to wander through the archives of Jane-related memories. After all, they comprised her best and most extensive set of recollections.

Hearing the processional music begin, Maura couldn't help but note that particular memory was almost a year old now. Yet her puzzlement over Jane's modus operandi remained mostly the same. Yes, over the years Maura had accrued a vast catalogue of observational data in her personal case study of Jane Rizzoli. Many previously dubious character traits and behavioral tendencies had come to be explained as Maura learned more about the detective's past. She came to understand certain intricacies of the detective's personality even better than members of Jane's own family. A pattern of logic, unique to Jane, continued to reveal itself with time.

But always, certain pieces of the pattern would turn up missing. Much to Maura's dismay, the logic would fail, and the scientist in her was left at a loss. _ "Now for the hitch in Jane's character," _she thought, unexpectedly quoting Charlotte Bronte to herself. _"I still don't fully grasp why you do this to yourself. Why you push into things when you're not ready. When you clearly know the circumstances aren't right for the choice you're making." _She sighed, glancing down one last time at the lovely bouquet in her hands – red and white roses – and prepared to step out into the aisle and await her best friend at the altar. _I may have been referring to her decision-making process in the context of her physical recklessness, _Maura thought, reviewing the memory one last time, _but to all intents and purposes, I think she and I both knew, if only at a subconscious level, that there were much more complex and abstract relational issues on the table that day. _And all the signs pointed to Jane sliding down into that same trap she always laid for herself. Taking another impetuous plunge into what Maura's logic was forecasting as an ill-fated chapter of her life. And still Maura wondered, even as she stepped into the aisle, smiling for the congregation, _Why does she do this?_


	6. Chapter 6

Maura waited at the altar, watching the love of her life glide slowly on her father's arm, with a radiant smile, down the aisle towards her. She was clearly nervous, but still positively glowing in the sleeveless white gown. Maura smiled and took a moment to compliment herself on her choice of gown; Angela had been right to trust her judgment on style and fit. The cut of the dress perfectly and tastefully accentuated Jane's athletic, ectomorphic build. She flushed with pride, and for a moment, Jane seemed to respond in kind, joyful smile breaking into a beaming grin behind the sheer veil. Her hair was up, elegantly coifed and beaded with pearls. The medical examiner's eyes wandered from the bride's face, pausing a moment to appreciate how the up-do highlighted the regal curve of Jane's neck. Returning her gaze to Jane's face, Maura noticed the detective had broken eye contact.

Reality slammed into Maura, feeling like a kettlebell behind her abdominal muscles. Jane wasn't walking towards her from the end of the aisle. She had never been walking towards Maura. Her eyes had locked on the man standing not four feet from Maura. The man standing at the center of the raised dais that housed the altar, flanked by the priest, one of his comrades in full dress uniform, Frankie, and herself.

The man Jane had said "yes" to.

_Jane, what are you doing? _It was all Maura could do to keep from asking aloud as Jane handed her the bridal bouquet so she could take Casey's hands.

"Do you, Charles Anthony Jones…"

Maura could see from where she was standing behind Jane that her best friend was shaking with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She shifted imperceptibly closer, longing so deeply to touch the woman before her. Witnessing Jane's body's natural reaction to all the stress – both good and bad – that had accumulated over the past few months, had a powerful, magnetic effect on the medical examiner. On an intuitive level, Maura experienced an intense need to comfort. Where she had always known herself to be perceived as relatively cold and aloof, Maura had come to understand that Jane coaxed a strong but unpracticed and deeply buried nurturing instinct to the surface of Maura's personality.

"I do." Casey's voice.

Another shiver, visible only to Maura – and perhaps to Casey – passed through Jane's body.

"Do you, Jane Clementine Rizzoli…"

Maura edged her hand closer to Jane, unable to stop herself. She took a brief assessment of the many vantage points within the congregation and judged that the move she was about to make would be noticed by no one save herself. And possibly Jane.

Maura's knuckles brushed feather light against the small of Jane's back. The touch lingered just enough for Maura to feel the nervous tension in Jane's lumbar region. Just barely enough to feel the muscle groups relax at her touch. She needed this. They both did.

"I…"

At the moment when the husky voice faltered, Maura found herself flush again with a heat born of desperation. She wanted to touch Jane again.

_Jane, it'll be okay. We'll be okay. Just a little longer. _Was she addressing her best friend or herself? Maura's emotions had never been so discombobulated before.

"…do."


	7. Chapter 7

_I love you Jane. So much. You're my best friend and I wish you every possible happiness in the world._

After hours of mentally rehearsing what she would say late at night when the reception wound down to its inevitable close, Maura decided that this phrasing was the most palatable. It allowed her to avoid lying without coming across as too contrived or insincere. She didn't have to actually say "congratulations" to Jane, which would be, in effect, a lie. She didn't feel in her heart of hearts that congratulations were in order.

It wasn't that Maura was bitter. She could never resent her best friend – truly the best person she had ever known and had the privilege of loving. But she couldn't bring herself, in all honesty, to congratulate Jane on a commitment that Maura felt would inevitably turn out wrong for her.

This way, this line, as she had practiced it ad infinitum in her mind, was the best she could do. This way came across as socially acceptable while still remaining faithful to the unique closeness and frankness that had always kept them together.

And this way, Maura was prepared. She knew what she would say, when she would say it, and even how she would confirm it with the appropriate physical gestures of affection and good will.

What she wasn't prepared for – what she had never been truly able to prepare for – was Jane.

Maura had just returned from fetching her jacket from the venue's coat closet, stepping back onto the outdoor dance floor to thank Angela for a wonderful evening. In her mind, she was also thanking the older woman for giving birth to and raising the most beautiful person Maura had ever known. Angela seemed to sense Maura's frustration with the inadequacy of words, for she enveloped the medical examiner in a long, warm, maternal hug. In that embrace, Maura imagined Angela was trying to convey some gratitude of her own.

Warming to the possibility of settling back into a permanent niche within the Rizzoli family dynamic, Maura found herself blindsided by Unexpected Variable Number One.

Jane approached her. Without Casey.

Maura had fully expected to step up to the newlyweds and gently part them for the briefest instant on the pretense of imparting well-wishes and saying goodnight to the bride. Her duties as maid-of-honor had been fulfilled as far as she could see, and there was no reason for her to stay any longer. But Jane – apparently still hyper-vigilant even at her own wedding – must have seen the beginnings of Maura's leave-taking and thought to head her off. Perhaps she was afraid Maura might try slipping away without saying goodbye, without being thanked for her generous assistance with the wedding plans and preparations.

If this was the case, Maura had to acknowledge that Jane's fears would not be entirely out of the realm of possibility. But she had planned to approach Jane first.

"Maura." Jane's voice husked softly from behind her. She turned, and Angela left them alone without another word. Maura peeked over Jane's shoulder, looking for Casey. "You're leaving?"

Maura met Jane's eyes. Unexpected Variable Number Two – those rich dark eyes were shining with unshed tears. Maura couldn't discern from Jane's expression whether the tears stemmed from a positive or negative emotion, or whether they were simply the relief of pent-up stress. _Or she's sad to see you go_, Maura mused for a moment, but swiftly quashed the idea before it developed into an unhealthy fantasy. "Things seemed to be winding down." She shrugged. "I thought I'd say my goodbyes and call it an evening." She offered a soft smile.

Jane nodded. "Could I…talk to you for a second? Before you go?"

"Of course, Jane."

They stood in an uncharacteristically awkward silence for a few seconds. Maura spent those seconds almost uncomfortably aware of Jane's splendid physique, displayed with such class in the rose colored evening gown she had changed into for the reception. Another of Maura's selections. The medical examiner finally deemed the pause had lasted long enough and it was appropriate to prompt Jane. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Jane shifted her weight slightly, almost slipping into "posturing detective" mode before catching herself. Maura suppressed a smile at Jane's old habits refusing to quit. "Actually, I've had this sense for a while – basically all night – that _you've_ had something on _your _mind that you want to tell me."

And now came Unexpected Variable Number Three. Maura's stream of consciousness froze over and everything in her seemed to lock up. She had been depending on one of Jane's momentary lapses in her normally acute emotional intuitiveness. On her maddening lack of perception in certain matters of the human heart.

_Now is your chance. Take it, or regret it forever. _

Maura unconsciously shook her head, telling her ego she wasn't ready. Luckily, Jane appeared to interpret that as meaning, "No, there actually wasn't anything I needed to tell you right now," and let it slide. Instead, she stepped unbearably close and put her arms around Maura, holding her tightly, resting her chin on Maura's shoulder and letting out a tiny sigh. Maura returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

Jane seemed to sniff out a small chuckle, saying, "I'll miss you." Maura stiffened. "On the honeymoon. You know, because I'll get bored…without a case to solve." Maura relaxed, wrapping her arms just a little tighter around the detective, discreetly inhaling her scent. "Might have to call you once or twice and have you enable my addiction to criminal drama."

Maura smiled. Indulged in a light chuckle. "You'll be back soon enough, and then you'll wish you had stayed away longer."

"Yeah, maybe so, but that doesn't change the fact that…I'll still miss you, Maura. It might be the longest we've been apart in…ever."

Another few seconds passed. Maura gathered the courage to say her piece and walk away. "I love you, Jane. I love you so much, you're my best friend, and I wish you every happiness in the world." She found that she truly meant every word.

The last Unexpected Variable was nearly her undoing. At these words, Jane shivered. Maura could have attributed this to the evening breeze that had picked up as the day drew to a close. They had chosen a partially outdoor venue to take advantage of warm spring weather, and it was entirely possible that Jane had become slightly chilled from standing outside so long in not much clothing. But the timing, the context, everything aside from the meteorological circumstances pointed to this shiver stemming not from the physiology of homeostasis, but rather the physiology of emotion.

Maura found her mind's eye flashing unbidden on a few personal watershed moments in her relationship with Jane.

_Jane allowing herself to be led gingerly to the sidelines in the wake of a fatal car bomb explosion. Jane huddled against her, face hidden in her shoulder, trembling from shock and pain in Maura's arms as BPD milled about, fighting to regroup._

_Jane's arms holding her up in the hospital after the hit-and-run that almost killed Constance. Her hands tenderly cradling Maura's injured ones at Constance's bedside._

_Jane supporting her again after serial killer Dennis almost slit her throat. Cupping her face, her head, squeezing her body to keep her from falling to pieces, making her feel safe again._

_Jane in her arms again when Maura informed her of the risks of Casey's restorative spinal surgery. Sobbing silently, lost and afraid, clinging to her best friend because Maura was the only rock she had to cling to._

Maura sighed, unable to contain so much emotional turmoil for much longer. "And I'll miss you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

Jane pressed back into the headrest of the passenger seat, still trying to adjust to letting someone else drive. Her hand rested comfortably over her husband's, atop the gear shift. He smiled over at her for a moment, and she returned the expression with a sleepy grin of her own. The flight back from the Hawaiian islands had been long, and they were both tired. She closed her eyes, lulled by the rhythmic ticking of the turn signal as Casey changed lanes.

_I'm happy, _she thought, marveling at the novelty of the idea. _This was a decent vacation, and I actually feel okay right now. Content. _"This is good."

"What's that, babe?"

Jane opened her eyes. Squeezed his hand. "This. This is nice."

He chuckled softly. "I'm glad you're happy." As he drew the car to a stop at a traffic light, he leaned over and kissed her. "I love you," he said into her mouth. Jane closed her eyes again, feeling herself respond with a familiar, lazy warmth.

"Mmmmm…love you, too."

_How long can this last?_ Her lids flew up and she pulled away softly. Thankfully, the light had turned green, so her abrupt withdrawal went unnoticed. _Where did that come from? _She sat back in the seat, puzzled at her own subconscious penchant for negativity at a time like this.

_Things are going really well. I have no business doubting right now. _They'd both agreed to leave their cell phones off for the majority of the trip. There had been no hitches in their travel plans, and no interruptions. Their two-week honeymoon had been just about as flawless as Jane knew she could realistically expect it to be. There had been a couple of moments where she would lay awake at night after Casey had flopped to his side of the bed, happy and exhausted. In these moments she would stare at the ceiling or the digital clock on the nightstand, and listen to the ocean sounds wafting through their open window. And she would get an itch in her mind to know what cases her colleagues were working on, if they had any leads, what morbidly fascinating observations Maura made while conducting her autopsy. But the restlessness would be fleeting, easily quelled.

They pulled up to Jane's building, hauled their luggage from the trunk to her bedroom and collapsed, side by side, on the mattress.

"Let's not bother unpacking tonight," Casey said.

Jane snorted. She hadn't been planning on it. "Agreed." They both smiled into the dark.

In companionable silence, Jane slowly, lightly drew her fingertips up and down Casey's forearm.

"Will you go back tomorrow?" he asked.

She turned her head on the pillow to look at him. His eyes were forward, trained on the ceiling. Was this a test? She decided honesty was the best policy. "I was thinking about it." _Is that okay? _she felt like asking, but wanted to avoid emulating the deferential wife stereotype in any way. It was her job, her career, and she was the only one who would decide when her hard-earned vacation was over.

She felt his strong fingers link with hers. "Okay."

_Wait. That's it? Just "okay?"_ This was an easier conversation than she expected. She rolled over to kiss him, and his hands came to her waist, squeezing ever so lightly just beneath her ribs. It was on the verge of a tickling sensation, but the pressure was brief. "Thank you," she murmured with a smile. He smiled back. She lay back down on her back, and he reached over to tenderly brush a wayward lock from her face.

"Good night, beautiful."

"Good night."

Jane awoke feeling refreshed and raring to get back in the swing of things. She was certainly never one to get romantic about her work as a homicide detective, but absence had made her heart grow fonder her job and its myriad associations.

Casey was gone, but that was no surprise. Even in Hawaii he would sometimes get up at oh-dark-thirty for a brief solo jog – even if it was just around the block. Old Army habits die hard. She had even risen early to join him once, but afterwards decided that vacations were for sleeping in.

Whenever he left early in the morning he would be sure to write a note to let her know what he was doing and roughly how long he expected to be gone. It wasn't necessary – he was a grown man and Jane only rarely worried about him – but she appreciated the courtesy, and the love she knew was behind it.

In Hawaii, the notes had been handwritten. Today, however, he must have known she would check her email first thing, and so his name was at the top of her lengthy inbox list.

_Good morning, babe –_

_Hope you have a good day at work. I've gone for a run. You'll probably be gone before I get back. Maybe I'll stop by for lunch?_

_I'll talk to you later._

_Love you!_

_Casey_

With a smile, she closed the message and skimmed through the rest of her inbox. There were a few minor news updates from the precinct. A couple jokes and gag emails from Korsak and Frankie. One from Cavanaugh. One from her mother. And one from Maura. These last three had strikingly similar subject headers, all along the lines of, "we need to talk when you get back." Suddenly nervous, the smile melted from her face as she opened each of them. While cryptic, she got the sense that they were all trying to warn her of some significant changes in the department that she should prepare herself for upon her return. The fact that one of these was from her mother clued Jane to the fact that this was big enough news that it had extended beyond the walls of the bullpen and into civilian territory. Yet it was sensitive enough that they couldn't – or wouldn't – divulge details over email. It was something they each felt a need to address with her in person.

Unable to glean any more helpful information from her inbox, she closed her laptop, slugged down the last of her coffee, and headed for the shower.


	9. Chapter 9

Jane knocked on the open door to Cavanaugh's office. "Sir? I got your email."

"Rizzoli. Welcome back. Come on in." The lieutenant stood and moved to shut the door behind her. "Have a seat."

Between concern, lack of facts, and no breakfast, Jane's coffee wasn't settling well. "What's this about, sir?" She sat forward in the chair, abdomen clenched tightly.

Cavanaugh sighed, staring at his clasped hands on the desk. "Rizzoli, there's really no easy way to tell you this, so…"

"Please, sir, just tell me," Jane begged. She could feel her throat tightening with an unnamed dread. She hated not knowing what was going on.

"Detective Frost is dead."

The breath caught in her throat and her lungs seemed to seize up. "Frost…?" she rasped.

Cavanaugh nodded, refraining from repeating the awful phrase.

Jane slumped back in her seat, stricken. "How…? When…?" she stammered. _He was at my wedding, for God's sake!_

"Homicide and DCU formed a task force for a big bust. The bust went wrong. DCU lost two of their best. And we lost Frost." He met her eyes, his expression tight and grim. "This was a week after you left," he added to orient her chronologically. He rose, and she stood also, feeling wooden and hollow. "I hate to put this on you the moment you return, but –"

"No, I understand." The words came out mechanically.

Cavanaugh followed her to the door. "If you need more time, Rizzoli, to process…figure things out…you're more than welcome."

Jane paused in the doorway, looking out at the bullpen. Her partner was dead. Gone. She managed to look Cavanaugh in the eye as she stepped out. "Thank you, sir, but I don't think that'll be necessary."

Cavanaugh nodded. He seemed to get it. "The service is tomorrow."

Jane nodded over her shoulder. She'd be there. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Did they at least…" her voice finally started to crack, "get the guys who did it?"

Cavanaugh nodded. "All but one. And he's done a real good job of disappearing. But the team reported back that he's likely wounded, and can't outrun us too much longer."

It had to be enough. She couldn't stand to listen to any more. As she approached her desk, her gaze wandered aimlessly, landing on various people and landmarks and seeing them only as abstract shapes with no meaning. The news hadn't hit her yet. She was numb with shock.

Noticing curious, pitying glances in her direction, she realized she had been staring at the elevator doors. _Oh God, Maura. I wonder how she's taking it, _Jane thought with a weird sense of desperation. She turned to her desk and sat down, now staring at the blank, powered-down monitor of her computer. None of her body's movements made any sense to her. The detachment was disconcerting, but she couldn't seem to gather enough emotion even to process that revelation fully.

The elevator dinged.

Jane didn't look up.

Maura stepped through, manila case file in one hand, coffee in the other.

Out of her peripheral vision, Jane watched Maura approach her desk and come to a tentative halt.

"Jane," came the soft voice.

The detective looked up, just barely beginning to feel something. The soulful, loving, empathetic hazel eyes that met her halfway were more than she could bear.

"I'm sorry, Maura," she choked out and tore from her desk, fleeing to the nearest restroom. She slammed a stall door behind her, locked it, and sagged to the floor, sobbing breathlessly.


	10. Chapter 10

The restroom door opened with a shushing sound. Maura knew the clack of her heels – however much she altered her gait to minimize noise – would likely alert Jane to her approach. She stopped, letting the door swing shut behind her with a muffled bump. Standing stock still, she listened.

There. There it was.

Her heart clenched at the sound.

Stifled, rib-wracking sobs, barely restrained by what was now likely a tear-stained shirt sleeve.

If she hadn't been paying attention, she might not have heard it.

But Maura Isles always paid attention. Maura Isles always paid attention to Jane Rizzoli.

She felt helpless, useless. She wanted to reach out, to at least say something. Impart words of comfort for her grieving friend, the woman she loved. But she remained firmly rooted to the spot where she had stopped to listen. Aching at the sound as Jane wept, yet inexplicably unable to respond.

_Jane…Oh, Jane. _The familiar globus pharyngis sensation built painfully in her throat. She swallowed ineffectively against it. _What can I do?_

The sobs gradually quieted, replaced by sporadic sniffles. Maura bowed her head. _She is no longer mine to comfort. She never was really mine._

As the room grew quieter, Maura urged her vocal chords to vibrate, and her lips to take the familiar shape of Jane's name.

She could not. Words died in her throat, faded on her tongue. Her best friend was suffering and she could do nothing.

Eventually, even the sniffles stopped, and if she strained she could hear Jane's determined efforts to calm her diaphragm into a regular rhythm. Slow, deliberate breaths. Ujayii breathing.

Maura shook her head and turned silently to the door. Hating her own cowardice.

She passed Jane's desk on her way back to the elevator, and consequently, Frost's empty chair, his desk cleared of all personal touches. Stinging tears threatened with a vengeance. She quickened her pace to the elevator, seeking detachment in the cold sterility of the morgue. Emotionally she felt subterranean. It was fitting that she should descend physically as well.

It took way more strength than she felt she had, but Jane finally managed to get her tears in check and her breathing under control. Yanking several squares of toilet paper off the roll, she wiped her eyes one last time and blew her nose. She wadded up the paper, pitched it in the toilet bowl, took two more deep breaths, and unlocked the stall door. She bumped it open with her knee and went straight to the sink. Her abdomen was sore and she felt vaguely nauseous. Leaning with stiff arms on the counter, she forced herself to make eye contact with her reflection.

She smirked. The aftermath of crying this hard wasn't a look that wore well on anyone. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were bloodshot. A splash of cold water on her face helped only slightly.

She sighed and looked back at herself in the mirror. _Get it together, Rizzoli. You're not honoring Frost or helping anybody else who knew him by all the gross sobbing._ She loosed one more heavy sigh and pushed off the counter.

It was time to get to work.


	11. Chapter 11

Maura glanced at the time on her computer screen. It was probably time for lunch, but the last thing she felt like doing was eating. So she continued to scour the toolmark database for anything that might match the suspicious indentation on the victim's left clavicle bone.

She almost didn't notice the double doors swing open. Even after hearing their swish, she half expected Korsak to come through the doors. She wasn't expecting Jane.

Jane's step remained unusually quiet as she approached. She waited until she was less than three feet away from Maura before she spoke. There was a moment's hesitation, in which Maura wondered numbly why Jane was even down here.

When Jane finally opened her mouth to speak, the slight husk that usually characterized her voice was lower, harsher, and less steady. "You can stare at that screen till your eyeballs melt, it's not gonna change the fact that our "tool" isn't listed there."

Maura glanced up, fleetingly meeting Jane's eyes before returning her gaze to the computer monitor in front of her. "My eyes would never melt from staring at a computer screen, Jane," she corrected, her own voice low and dull. She hesitated to continue along this line of thought; their dialogue already felt painfully contrived after less than sixty seconds. "Though studies have shown that excessive exposure to electronic monitors – phone screens, television, computer monitors – leads to corneal dryness and irritation."

Jane could not suppress a wry smirk. "That explains so much." She crossed her arms and leaned closer to Maura's computer, looking at the time at the bottom of the screen. "Normally we would be eating lunch by now."

"I thought of that as well."

"Not hungry?"

Maura shook her head, quirking one shoulder weakly.

"Me neither. C'mon, let's take a break, anyway. Think we've both earned it, don't you?" Jane gave her arm a gentle tug.

_Jane, _Maura thought, _you have no idea._ She slowly pulled her arm away. Her shoulders began to gather in, and her chin quivered, betraying her.

"Maura…" Jane's hand assumed its usual position on her shoulder and squeezed tenderly. There was no mistaking the telling catch in the detective's voice.

The medical examiner hunched a little further, a feeble attempt at escape without physically removing herself from Jane's presence. Though it hurt, Jane acknowledged Maura's need to retreat. She watched helplessly as a tear escaped Maura's eye. "Okay," she said, squeezing Maura's shoulder one more time. _Frost was her partner, too. He was her family, too. _"Alright, we don't have to go anywhere. If you want to keep working, that's fine. But…" a sigh gusted unbidden from her lungs, and she ran a shaky hand through her wayward tresses. "We should – probably – set aside some time to…you know, talk. About…things."

Maura nodded. Wiped her eyes and sniffed. "Maybe tonight," she managed, and Jane wanted to cheer the suggestion. With the way a huge chunk of her world had just imploded, getting Maura to even tentatively agree so easily left Jane feeling poignantly triumphant.

"Okay. I'll check by later. To see if you're still up for it, okay? Or maybe just text me. Whatever you feel like."

"Okay." Maura nodded again, timorously meeting her best friend's dark eyes. The warmth there, and the pain they shared at the common loss, was oddly reassuring.

Jane gave her back a quick rub, and after a moment's hesitation, gently brushed some locks of red-gold hair off Maura's shoulder.

As the her best friend pulled away and made her exit, it was all Maura could do to not flinch at the way her stomach fluttered and her heart constricted.


	12. Chapter 12

"Korsak, how do you feel about lunch?"

The sergeant looked up from his computer, brows arched in mild surprise. "Love some! Doctor Isles not going with you?"

Jane shook her head. "She wasn't feeling up to it."

Korsak glanced fleetingly at Frost's empty desk. "Understandable. It was a kick to the gut for everybody, but she seemed to take it especially hard. Cavanaugh tell you what happened?"

"He only disclosed the basics. How it happened and when." She shrugged, staring at the empty space where her partner was supposed to be sitting. "I don't think I could've handled any more than that at the time." She met his eyes. "But was there even that much more to tell?"

His face turned grim. "Listen, I've just gotta finish up this report real quick. Go see your mom down at Division One, and I'll meet you there. I can fill you in on details over lunch if you feel ready to hear them."

Jane nodded, feeling shaky but determined. "I think I can take it," she said without irony.

Almost before Jane had crossed the threshold into the Division One Café, her mother was around the counter and calling her name, instantly tearful.

"Jane, honey, have you heard? Has somebody told you?" She seized Jane in a hug before her daughter could dodge.

"Yes, Ma. Cavanaugh told me."

"Oh honey it was just awful. And he was your partner. I'm so sorry, baby."

With a few cursory pats to her mother's shoulder, Jane managed to gently pry herself from her mother's arms. "Thanks, Ma," she said, her treacherous voice beginning to quaver.

"What can I get you?"

Jane hesitated when she saw Frankie enter the café and begin making his way over. "Uh, nothing right now, Ma. I'm getting lunch with Korsak in a bit." _And I get the feeling it'll be a pretty light lunch._

"Hey, Janie," Frankie greeted her, voice low.

"Hi, Frankie." She squeezed his arm. He felt tense. Rather than ask with words, she inquired with her eyes. _How are you holding up? _

He gave her a terse nod, but his face was drawn with melancholy. He looked like a man who had just lost his best friend.

"Frankie, what about you? Can I get you anything special?"

"Nah, Ma, I'm good. Thanks, though. Look, I gotta run. I'll talk to you later, Jane."

Jane understood exactly how he was feeling. "Okay." She offered him a small smile as he turned away.

"He told me he was there, Jane, but he won't say anything else about it."

Jane met her mother's worried eyes. "You can't expect him to be an open book, Ma. Not so soon after it happened."

Angela sighed. "I know, but I just worry about you kids not talking about your problems. It's not healthy."

"You sound like Maura," Jane remarked dryly.

"Well, somebody has to make sense when she's not around! Did you talk to her yet today?"

"Briefly, in the morgue. She's…not doing much better than Frankie, to be honest." Her eyebrows drew together and the muscles between her shoulder blades began to bunch up. _What a royal fucking mess we all are. Frost, why'd you have to go?_

When her mother spoke again, her voice was unsteady. "We all miss Frost, honey," she said, eyes taking in her daughter's mournful gaze and defeated posture. "It's gonna be hard, but we'll get through this, okay?"

_I should call Casey. Tell him what happened. _"She barely spoke to me, Ma."

"Jane! Ready to go?" Korsak's voice carried from café doors to where they stood.

Angela embraced her daughter tightly one more time. "Go talk to Sergeant Korsak, Jane. Remember the good times."

Jane's throat closed, preventing her from replying. She simply nodded and turned to Korsak. She pulled out her phone. "Mind if I have you drive while I call Casey? It dawned on me that I should probably fill him in…"

"Of course, Jane." He pulled out the keys to his sedan and she followed him out the door, phone already to her ear.

Her husband picked up on the third ring. "Hey, babe! Want me to come join you for lunch?"

"Hi. Actually, Casey…I'm sorry, but I'm getting lunch with Korsak. We've got a surprising amount to catch up on." She discreetly brushed the base of her thumb against her nose as her voice cut out on her. Again. As she stepped into the passenger side of the car, she exchanged a glance with Korsak that said, _God, this doesn't get any easier, does it?_

"What's wrong, Jane?" Casey asked.

"Uh…" Jane's stream of consciousness seemed to stutter. She had to say it out loud. It was going to become real the moment the words left her lips. And she knew it was going to hurt like hell. She looked to her ex-partner for help. Korsak's sympathetic expression gave her the boost she needed to plunge ahead. "Frost is dead."

A beat of silence. Then, "Oh, Jane I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, it's, uh…thanks, honey. Look, I gotta go. I can talk more later." Her voice, her heart was breaking on every word. _Frost is dead. Frost is dead. _

"Okay. I understand. I love you."

"Love you, too," she whispered, and ended the call. The phone dropped to her lap as she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Everything ached. She drew a deep breath and held it.

_My partner is dead. And I wasn't here for him._

"God, Korsak, what am I gonna do?"

Korsak knew this for what it was: a rare moment of weakness in the strongest, most resilient woman he knew, aside from Angela Rizzoli. He put the car in drive, not bothering to ask where Jane wanted to go. She didn't need to be burdened with trivial decisions like that. He briefly put his hand over hers. "Do what you have to, and keep living."

She nodded. "Okay."

He managed to find parking not far from the Dirty Robber. Jane was grateful he hadn't taken her someplace new – the comfort of a familiar atmosphere would likely service her well in the not-too-distant future. The lunch crowd was a much quieter and smaller group than the after-work crowd. They found a table in a somewhat secluded corner, and the server was in front of them a moment later. Korsak ordered a salad.

"I promised Doctor Isles I'd try to start eating better a while back. Figure I should probably start keeping my word." He offered a smile, and Jane returned it, albeit weakly.

She also ordered a salad. "I'm probably not going to eat much of it, anyway," she said with a shrug after the server departed. They sipped silently from their iced waters for a moment before Jane finally prompted, "Korsak, you might as well start talking now. Waiting until we get our food isn't going to make this easier on either of us."

He nodded and gave a resigned shrug. "You're probably right. So, how much did Cavanagh tell you?"

"Like I said, just the basics. Homicide plus DCU on a big narc bust. He didn't say what went south, but that it ended with two DCU guys and Frost about to get their names on the "In Memoriam" wall." She lifted the water to her lips and set it down before speaking again. "Oh, and Ma told me that Frankie was there."

Her concise summary of what she knew seemed to give Korsak pause. He watched her take another sip of water, clearly needing some occupation for her hands. When she set the glass down again, she went straight to the napkin wrapped around her silverware, unwound it, and went to work crumpling and uncrumpling it.

Korsak looked away for a second, gathering his thoughts, deciding where best to begin, which details to include and which to omit. Jane knew he didn't want to screw this up. She'd feel the same way in his position. _This wouldn't even be a problem if I'd just been here._

"The bust wasn't far from our precinct. They'd brought a tactical team along and everything. This was a big deal. One of the couriers got to the scene earlier than they'd been expecting, and saw them coming in. His warning gave the perps enough time to prepare." He shrugged, watching her fingers still going to town on the now mutilated napkin. "The rest is history as far as the bust itself is concerned."

Jane looked up from the napkin and looked him straight in the eye. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw the server approaching with their salads. "What happened next?" She knew there had to be more.

"The two DCU guys died almost instantly. Frost, though…" he looked up as the server placed their plates in front of them. "Thanks," he said.

More for appearances than anything else, Jane speared a couple of spinach leaves and steered them around her plate, trying to pick up more dressing and make them palatable.

"Frost was hit in – well, Doctor Isles said it was a freak coincidence that it nailed his femoral artery. If we'd got him back quicker, he might not've…"

Jane closed her eyes. Her lungs felt like they had just shut down. "Maura did the autopsy?" _Oh, God…no wonder she's doing so badly._

"She tried to save him, Jane."

_Oh God._

"They hauled ass back to the precinct. Called 911, telling them to meet us there with the ambulance. He was critical. Blood all over the place." He paused and touched her hand, which was clenched in a white-knuckled fist on the tabletop, still holding her fork with the spinach leaves. "Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head. Stifled a whimper. "I might as well know it all."

"She did everything she could once he was on her table. I think, if we'd gotten him there sooner, she could've stopped or at least slowed the bleeding enough to hold him 'til the ambulance could take him."

"But he bled out," Jane whispered the conclusion to the story. _Oh Frost. Oh Maura._

Jane pictured herself back in the morgue, seeing things from Maura's perspective.

_Shouting men hauling a wounded Frost through the doors and up on her table. His blood-soaked pants shredded. Femoral artery. That would explain a critical shot with this much blood even when he was wearing Kevlar. The slim chances of that happening were baffling, yet here were the cold, stark facts. _

_Pressing compresses to the wound, elevating his leg. Blood everywhere. _

_Frost opening his eyes. His breath faltering. Looking with startling clarity straight into Maura's face._

_Then nothing._

_Oh, Maura. Honey._

"Have you talked to her yet today?" Korsak asked quietly, venturing to break the stricken silence. "I know she didn't want to go to lunch, but…have you discussed it at all?"

"No. She didn't seem to want to talk." _And now I know why. I should've been here. For her._

"I know you don't like to push her, and I get that, but this might be one of those times when you have to try drawing it out of her. Gently, of course. You know how to handle her better than anyone."

Jane nodded, salad forgotten. "Yeah, I was waiting to see if she'd get back to me later about getting together after work to talk. She'll tell me when she's ready."

"Fair enough. I figured you'd know what's best."

She gave him a grim smile. Looked down at her salad and forced herself to eat enough of it to justify paying for a pile of seasoned leaves on a plate. Korsak followed her lead. They ate the rest of their meal in tentative silence.

Korsak drove them back to the precinct. Just before she opened the door, he stopped her. "Jane."

She turned. She knew what was coming. She wasn't going to heed his admonition, but she would do him the courtesy of listening.

"Don't beat yourself up. You had no way of knowing or anticipating this. It happened, and it's terrible, but it's over now. The best we can do is keep working through. I know how you think, Jane. And none of this was in any way your fault."

She turned and swung open the door without another backward glance.


	13. Chapter 13

Jane slipped the last sheaf of paperwork into its folder and stashed the folder in the file box beneath her desk for ease of retrieval tomorrow. She had been feeling less than productive all day, but still managed to get enough done to feel okay about leaving at quitting time. Shoving the box underneath the desk with her foot, she leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. She was so weary in body and spirit. It felt as though a lump of lead had settled at the bottom of her stomach. She grasped a pen from her desk and began clumsily twirling it between her fingers, silently debating whether to go straight home or ask Maura if she was ready to talk. She hadn't heard from her best friend all day since their brief exchange in the morgue that morning. The thought didn't sit well with Jane. But she was loath to push Maura's boundaries when she so clearly needed space and time to process.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the elevator dinged and Maura stepped onto the homicide floor. She wore a simple white blouse over a black skirt, with a coral blazer completing the ensemble. Stylish and professional.

"Hey, Maura."

"I'm sorry I didn't get back to you all day. I…needed time."

Jane put out her hand, forehead creasing in sympathy. "That's okay! I get it. I do." She knew the story now. She would give Maura all the time she needed. Her silent avowal to demonstrate infinite patience with her best friend seemed such a small penance for her failure to be there in a time of such crisis. "You don't have to apologize to me, Maura."

The medical examiner seemed to struggle with this sentiment, a fleeting grimace marring her features for a moment before she spoke again. "Anyway, I came here to tell you I'm ready to talk about it. And I –" she faltered, seemingly at war with herself on whether she should finish the sentence. She quickly came to a decision and lifted her chin. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight. We can have dinner…or not, and just skip straight to the wine." She offered a small smile, dimples just barely beginning to show themselves.

Jane's heart melted at the sight. She opened her mouth to accept.

Her phone buzzed. "Ugh. Perfect timing," she groaned, and checked the screen.

_Casey: Babe, just wondering if you're coming home soon._

She looked up at Maura. "It's Casey. Sorry, just give me one sec."

She typed a response. _Sorry honey. Maura's having a tough time of it with the Frost thing. I'm going over to hers for a while. Don't wait up for me. Love you._

His response was prompt in returning. _Got it. Love you too._

She locked the screen and returned her gaze to Maura's with a smile of her own. "Okay, I told him not to wait up for me." Jane felt an inexplicable lightening within herself as she watched Maura's expression turn from anxious doubt to happy relief. She rose and pulled her blazer off the back of her chair. "Let's go."

As Jane drew even with her on their approach to the elevator, she couldn't help but catch the frown that had returned to Maura's face. She was overthinking again. Jane sighed, wishing there was more she could think to do to make this easier on her friend.

Suddenly, there was a warmth on her arm, seeping through the sleeve of her blazer. She looked down. Maura had wrapped her hand around her arm. Jane took that hand as the elevator doors slid open, and pulled it gently until their arms were linked. They stayed this way the entire descent to the ground floor.

"God, I hope you still have beer in your fridge," Jane groaned loudly as they entered Maura's house.

In spite of her weariness with the turns their lives had taken recently, Maura found herself laughing softly at Jane's melodramatics. She was glad that some things remained the same when so much was in flux. And though the embers that always burned in her heart for the detective would never be quenched since Casey had staked his claim, Maura was not going to deprive herself of the small joys Jane's company could still bring her. So long as her best friend was willing to humor and indulge her now and again, Maura would content herself with that.

She went to her fridge and retrieved the much sought-after Blue Moon while Jane pulled her boots off. "Thanks for coming over, Jane," she said as she handed the bottle to the detective.

Seeming to sense Maura's earnestness, Jane grew solemn. "Don't mention it. I will always be here for you when you need me."

Maura felt some of the cold, hard tension from grief that had gathered in her abdomen begin to warm and soften. She was melting inside, and it had never felt so good. Or so terrifying. Jane could affect her so easily. Without even trying. Without even intending to attain Maura's surrender, the detective had it without realizing.

"I think we should both just drink heavily tonight and then go to bed," Jane said dryly.

"But…one of us has to get you back home to your husband, Jane." Maura tilted her head, eyes narrowed slightly.

Jane shrugged, carelessly flicking a few wayward locks of raven hair from her face as she took another drink. She was already well into the bottle.

Maura pressed her lips into a tight line. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe I'm being too selfish. Too needy._

"He knows not to wait up for me. I told him where I am. And I'm sure he wouldn't want either of us taking the risk of driving under the influence, only to have me stumble in at – what? – two in the morning? When he usually gets up at four to go run, anyway." She shook her head. "Nah, I think I'll stay here with you. That is," she met Maura's eyes cautiously, hoping she hadn't overstepped, "if you'll still have me."

"Of course, Jane," Maura said after a moment. "If you're comfortable with it, then so am I."

"Good. It's settled, then." Jane made her way over to the couch, but didn't turn on the TV. Instead, she tugged on the blanket that was draped over the back cushions, and laid it over herself. She took another sip and set her bottle down, settling into the corner of the couch and leaning her head back.

Surreptitiously watching her, Maura was overcome with intense affection – and desire. She stepped around the couch and joined Jane. But she did not settle in like her friend. She remained tense, hyperaware. Elbows propped on her knees, Maura sat forward with her back bent, staring into the glass of Carignan on the coffee table in front of her. She continued to watch Jane as she breathed, eyes still closed. Maura wondered if she was already falling asleep, but decided it wasn't very likely.

A want that seemed so basic it was almost primal was pulling and tugging at the corners of her being. Her soul felt stretched taut. _Why? _she thought, taking a heavy swallow from her glass. She had long since given up on trying to understand her relationship with Jane in a scientific context. But there were still times when she wondered at the cause and effect of it all.

Jane's arm reached out and deftly picked up the bottle, bringing it to her lips. She opened her eyes and looked right at Maura as she swallowed. "Hey. You okay?"

Maura held her gaze for a second longer and then looked away. If Jane really did stay the night, coping with temptation was going to make the next several hours extremely difficult. Jane polished off the last of the beer and reached out, touching Maura's shoulder. She began a series of very slow, very light, back-and-forth movements across Maura's back. Maura felt her breath catch, but she didn't think Jane heard it. Or if she did, she gave no sign of it.

Maura brought her glass up and took another large swallow. She was making much shorter work of it than she had planned. _Control. Keep it together. Yes, it's Jane, you're both grieving, you're both drinking, but you can control yourself._

Jane's hand continued its soft strokes, up and down her spine, and across her shoulders. "You wanna talk now?"

Maura closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sensation of Jane's touch and nearness wash over her. Tears gathered behind her eyes. _My amygdala and my lachrymal gland have a connection that I can't really control._

"If it helps," Jane offered, "Korsak already told me everything that happened. Including your…" she searched for the right word, "involvement. I'm all filled in. So you can really just talk about whatever is on your mind about the whole thing. You don't have to retell the story if you don't want to. I know reliving it is probably the last thing you wanna do right now."

The solemn timbre of Jane's voice dwindled to a mere susurration of whispered consonants. Maura opened her eyes finally, and looked at Jane. The detective sat forward, her hand never leaving Maura's back. She could sense the words were on their way out.

The veneer of placidity crumbled away as Maura finally choked out a whisper. "I couldn't save him, Jane. I tried everything…_everything_, but it was too late. I lost him. I lost your partner. I couldn't…" spasms wracked her diaphragm and she struggled, gasping for breath. Jane leaned closer and gripped her shoulders. "I couldn't save Frost, Jane, and I'm so, so s-sorry."

"Maura. Honey. It's not your fault." Tears flowed hot and fast from Jane's eyes as well, and her throat constricted painfully. She leaned her forehead against Maura's shaking shoulders. "I should've been here. For Frankie, for Korsak, for Frost. For you. And I wasn't. _I'm _sorry, Maura. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. You shouldn't have had to face that alone." And she held onto Maura so tightly, as if the pressure of her hands was the only physical force holding the pieces of her fragile best friend together.

Maura shook her head but couldn't speak. It was all too much to give words to, too much to take in. Frost's death, Jane's grief, her own grief, her private yearning for Jane to return her love. Instead, she tucked herself into Jane as her best friend wrapped her arms tightly around her. Much as she always longed for this, it hurt a great deal. Because under normal circumstances, Maura knew she had no right to such intimacy with this woman. So while half her heart lavished in the warmth and safety of Jane's affection, the other half writhed in agony at the knowledge that Jane was not hers. Would never be hers. Unable to stop herself, Maura wept harder.

Jane sobbed silently with her.


	14. Chapter 14

When the fluttering in her diaphragm finally settled, Maura felt like she was waking from a heavy sleep. _Perhaps I was unconscious for a time. _She didn't quite remember. After a while she lost all awareness of time and her surroundings. The only sensations she could remember were those of her own distress and Jane's constant presence. Jane's arms around her. The shudders of intense grief passing in breathtaking waves between them.

Her heart seemed to flinch within her when she realized she could hear Jane's pulse directly beneath her ear.

Jane, at some point in the past hour, had leaned them both back against the couch, Maura pressed against her. Maura lifted her head carefully to look at Jane. The other woman's breathing had also slowed and evened out, though her heart still beat slightly quicker than normal. Jane was staring at the ceiling, expression inscrutable, face pale with exhaustion. Maura could but barely make out the tear tracks that were just now beginning to dry on her cheeks. It appeared that the last set had fallen quite recently from her eyes, whereas Maura's ducts seemed to have ceased production some time ago. Yet there remained what felt like a hardened core of internalized stress, pent-up and tense, crowding her internal organs. She knew there was no physical mass to speak of in the midst of her digestive tract, yet the sensation was palpable and latent within her. All her tears were not yet spent.

Jane's eyes roamed down to meet hers. The medical examiner felt a subsequent squeeze at her shoulder. "Mind if I get up? I need another beer."

In reply, Maura shifted and pulled back so Jane could leave the couch. Hearing the refrigerator pop open in the kitchen behind her, she leaned forward and finished the last of the Carignan in her glass. As she swallowed, she vaguely regretted letting it sit so long in the open. A very slight harshness had crept into its bouquet. It was far from becoming vinegar, but it was clear this glass was well past "needing to breathe."

Jane returned with another Blue Moon – freshly opened – in her right hand, and the bottle of Maura's Carignan in her left. She poured a generous serving into Maura's glass – far fuller than would have been deemed socially appropriate in a formal setting – and resumed her position next to Maura.

"Thank you," Maura murmured as she took a sip. She watched Jane over the rim of her glass as the detective took two deep swallows before setting the bottle down on the end table behind her. Both their eyelids were growing heavy, but they remained awake, each secretly breathing the other in.

Numbness and apathy beckoned to them both, and they gave in, responding to the promise of release with eager swallows. Occasionally, Jane would close her eyes and just shake her head, unable to find words even in her own mind to force some sense on the situation. She unconsciously pressed her hand to Maura's leg and left it there, heavy and relaxed. Though the wine had naturally slowed her reaction time and lowered her inhibitions, she still felt tension gathering gradually within her, starting at the point of contact between herself and Jane.

"What is it?" Jane whispered. "You…flushed all of a sudden." She seemed to struggle with the urge to press the back of her hand to Maura's forehead.

Maura shook her head. "It's hard. I'm just…still trying to process." She looked Jane in the eye, feeling brave. "I can't help but keep thinking…"

"What?"

"No," Maura muttered, averting her gaze. Hating her cowardice all over again. "I don't even have the right to think it."

"You're not making sense, Maur. Just tell me what's going on in there." She gestured vaguely to Maura's head, and then lowered her hand to tuck a strand of warm blonde hair behind her ear.

Maura ducked her head. Here came the tears that had been threatening since Jane sat back down. "I keep seeing Frost's face. I keep seeing him on the autopsy table. I keep seeing the blood." She looked at her free hand - the one not in Jane's lap. Took a long, deep breath. "And I can't help but keep thinking…that could just as easily have been you on my table, Jane." She wept without sobbing this time, the words coming out clear and steady, but a mere whisper. Tears dripped from her chin.

Jane reflexively brushed them from her face and shifted closer.

Maura's insides stirred and grew uncomfortably warm. _I need to not want her. Just for once._

"But it wasn't me, Maura." She swiped more tears away with soft, easy strokes. "Honey, it wasn't me. I'm right here." She grabbed Maura's hand and pressed it to her own heart with both scarred palms.

Maura closed her eyes. Felt Jane's pulse. Reveled in it, just for a moment.

"Jane," she began, voice shaking, eyes still closed. "I need you to understand something."

Her friend remained silent. She could feel those probing dark eyes on her, searching desperately for something – she couldn't possibly know what. Jane kept Maura's hand clasped in both of hers, but lowered the tangle of fingers to her lap.

It was all Maura could do not to pull away. "I couldn't have survived if it had been you that day."

"I know, Maur. It would've been hard no matter –"

Maura's eyes snapped up to Jane's. "Do you, Jane? Know? Sometimes it baffles me. How much – how much you've come to mean to me." She looked down at her lap. "Too much, I think."

Concerned etched her best friend's features. "Maura you've lost me."

_She thinks it's the wine talking._ _Maybe it is. _But Maura knew that tonight's alcohol consumption had merely freed up the truths she had been tamping down for weeks, months. Years, even. "I just don't want there to be any regrets. Nothing left unsaid between us." She pivoted on the couch cushion, facing Jane straight on. "I love you, Jane."

Jane seemed to freeze, her fingers gripping Maura's hand just a little tighter. "I love you, too, Maura."

_She's wondering where this is coming from._

"No, Jane. Again, you're not hearing me. You can't mean this much to me. I can't allow it anymore." Jane looked more confused by the second but Maura had to press forward before she lost her nerve. Before the wave she was riding crested and broke beneath her. "I am _in _love with you, Jane." And here the tears came again. _God, I've waited too long to say this aloud. _"But I can't – that is, it is a moot point, as you've given every indication that it is…you chose Casey, I was your maid of honor…clearly all the signs point to the irrevocable, irrefutable truth that my feelings are, in fact, _not _returned, and I –"

"They _are _returned, Maura." Jane's eyes were zeroed in blankly on an indistinct point somewhere on the coffee table.

Maura's entire body seized into absolute stock stillness as the words registered.

Jane sounded stricken as she repeated herself. "Your feelings are returned." She pulled back abruptly, left hand shooting straight to her temple, fingers raking back through dark, tousled locks. Her expression grew tight, but the emotion it was registering was one that Maura was not adept at interpreting. The emotion was too complex, but Maura feared she understood it – on what Jane would call a "gut" level.

Jane fairly sprang from the couch, sweeping her bottle up and beginning to pace erratically in tiny, irregular circles. She slugged back several more swallows, face growing more pained by the breath. Finally she set the near-empty bottle down and leveled those impenetrably dark eyes straight at Maura.

"_Why?_" Her typical husk had been reduced to a hoarse rasp. "Why did you never _tell _me, Maura?" She sounded like a woman falling apart at the seams, and it rent Maura's heart in two.

Maura's jaw worked, mouth opening and closing. She breathed, but could find no words. "I…I had no idea…"

"Maura, why did you think it was so hard for me to ask you to _be _my maid of honor? Why did you think I felt so awkward?"

_What's she's really asking me is, "Why did I let her go through with all this when the signs should have been clear as day?"_

"There were so many times you could have said something! Why didn't you?"

Maura rose then. She had to - for at least this once - meet Jane on something that resembled an equal footing. "When would it have made sense? When would it have been convenient for you, Jane?"

"Don't put this on me, Maura. You can't dump a confession of this...this magnitude on someone and then turn around and -"

"Answer my question, Jane. Would you have listened?" She flashed again on their exchange in the park about Jane's ankle injury - and her maddening obstinacy. "When would you have been prepared to hear me say this to you? When - prior to now - would you have been ready and able and willing to take my words - and the feelings behind them - into account, and to admit that you returned them?"

It was clear by Jane's expression that she had no retort for that. Maura had soundly stumped her again. Through her frustration, she felt vindicated. Jane confirmed by her uncharacteristic silence that Maura was right. That she knew Jane better than Jane knew herself.

The confirmation made this conversation no easier, did not lessen the pain of the circumstances. In fact, it infuriated Maura that she was correct, yet again. She had never thought she would ever resent her own powers of deduction. And though she had clearly missed the signs that her affections were requited, every other conjecture she had ever formed on Jane's personality and behavioral patterns was perfectly on point.

As she thought all this, she never stopped watching Jane. She was forever trying to take as much of this woman in as she possibly could. Jane's expression was changing, and her pacing had come to a restless stop. She swallowed, exhaled heavily through her nose. That tiny cluster of muscles in the corner of her jaw quivered. Maura wondered if Jane was even aware of that.

She looked on the verge of something. She was tilting, leaning over the precipice. Looking down, losing her balance. For the first time, Maura found herself wanting to see Jane fall. To see her come tumbling after, the same way Maura had come - no means of stopping, head over heels.

Then Jane turned, raking slender fingers through her hair again, shaking the wild curls loose into a black mane. Stepped around the coffee table. Maura stiffened as she approached, closing the distance between them to a few mere inches. Warm brown eyes darkened and bored into hazel.

"What're you doing?" Maura whispered, her own voice ragged from drinking and crying. There was a woman - at once all hard, sharp angles and sleek, graceful curves - standing in front of her, and Maura wondered angrily how either of them could've successfully denied their mutual attraction for so long. But this woman was married to a man who loved her, and whom she loved in return. Their relationship clearly had its flaws, but theirs was a bond already sealed in body and law. What hope could Maura possibly have now for her relationship with Jane? Hers was a lost cause, was it not?

"I have to know. Now. What...could've been. If we both hadn't been so stupid." Maura had never heard Jane's voice sound like this before. She shivered, fearful and inexplicably excited. Jane drew impossibly closer. The left hand once more roamed its way into that tangle of raven hair.

Then both hands were unexpectedly at Maura's waist, fingertips coaxing her closer of their own volition. This was Jane acting on instinct.

Maura stood her ground as Jane pressed in. As their lips met. Something undefined sealed itself inexorably between them. To Maura, it felt like an irreparable rift had spread, jagged between them. And it felt like the last few threads that had been intertwining gradually over the years finally bound themselves together in an unbreakable link. It was a falling away and a falling together.

Slender, eloquent hands moved from waist to shoulders. She felt a single shudder pass through Jane as she took control, something Maura hadn't predicted. She had anticipated hesitancy, apprehension. Not this desperate boldness. But then what about this interaction could realistically have gone according to plan? There were too many variables to account for.

And all of them were Jane.

Maura trembled as their mouths repeatedly came together. She was tasting Jane. Feeling Jane like she never had before.

Jane felt hands on her upper arms, and for the briefest of heady seconds, she felt them soften, clinging. But then their grip strengthened and pressed. Resisting.

Just as quickly as she had moved in, Jane drove back. Her hands released Maura's shoulders. The darkness left her eyes and the rush of blood drained from her face, leaving her once again pale, grief-stricken, and utterly exhausted. But there was something new there, as well. Maura could see it.

Dissatisfaction. Frustration. Jane turned from her and stalked off toward the hall.

"Where are you going?" Maura croaked.

"To bed, Maura." But Maura could see she was walking not to the master bedroom like she normally would, but to the guest room at the end of the hall. She intended to sleep alone.

All at once, Maura's knees buckled and she sank to the couch, shaking. She buried her face in her hands.

"There is no going back," she whispered brokenly. And the last of that toughened, quivering core of tension somewhere in her abdomen gave way, stealing her breath in same merciless way that Jane had inadvertently stolen her heart.

And Maura wept the hardest she had in perhaps her entire life.


	15. Chapter 15

Jolting awake, Jane's eyes snapped open and she stiffened. This was not her bed. This was not her room. There was no one on the mattress beside her.

No Casey. No Maura.

_Maura. _

_Shit. _Last night's dialogue came flooding back to her. Maura's voice floated, unbidden through her mind. _"I am _in _love with you, Jane." _And Jane relived her own stunning realization that her long suppressed feelings for Maura were mutual.

_I kissed Maura last night. _Jane went limp in defeat, limbs sinking into the mattress.

She remembered grieving with Maura at the loss of her partner. Frost.

Jane groaned. _Frost is dead. His funeral is today. Shit. I'm in love with my best friend, who loves me back, but I'm married; my partner is dead and his funeral is today. _She sat up abruptly and raked her fingers through her tousled hair. Then she pitched forward and buried her face in her hands. She sat this way for a moment, then sighed heavily, peeking through her fingers at the clock on the nightstand. It was just after four a.m. _They'll probably expect me to speak at the service. God, what do I even say? _

_What do I say to Maura? How will we ever get back to normal? _But she already knew the answer to that. She'd passed the point of no return. _Hell, was there ever a "normal" between us to begin with?_

After a brief shower, Jane slipped into the main living area to retrieve her shoes on the way to the front door. As she passed between the kitchen and the living room, she heard a soft sigh. She froze. The sound, faint though it was, was clearly coming from the couch. Pivoting slowly, Jane peered over the back of the couch.

There she was. Maura. Curled in on herself, right where Jane had left her late last night. With a fresh wave of gut-clenching guilt, Jane realized Maura had probably cried herself to sleep, too distraught to even get herself to bed. Jane shuddered and gripped the back of the couch. She closed her eyes against a fresh onslaught of grief and then released her white-knuckled grasp on the cushions.

Maura inhaled and shifted on the couch. Jane's eyes were drawn to her forlorn sleeping form huddled on the cushions. "Oh Maura," she whispered under her breath. The medical examiner didn't even have the blanket over her, and her nearly fetal position belied the chill that she was somehow sleeping through.

Jane gathered the blanket from the far corner of the couch and drew it slowly, lightly, over Maura's body. She dared to let her fingertips linger, smoothing the folds of the blanket unnecessarily over her best friend's shoulder, back, and hip. Maura stirred again, and Jane went still, hoping she hadn't woken her friend. But Maura merely sighed again in her sleep. The combination of watching Maura sleep, watching her disturbed expression slowly relax, and hearing the soft sigh caused a fluttering in her abdomen and a squeezing in her heart. She brushed a stray lock of red-gold hair from Maura's shoulder and started to lean down to place a kiss on her cheek but stopped herself short.

_Don't push it, _she thought. _Don't wake her. You'll just have to start making amends later._

"I _do _love you, Maura," she murmured. "I just don't know what to do about it anymore."

"Jane! Good morning! Isn't this a little early for you?" Casey jogged up in gym shorts and a t-shirt, checking his watch.

Jane paused with her hand on the knob of her front door. "Yeah, I guess it is." She shrugged resignedly. "Didn't get much sleep last night, to be honest."

Her husband's expression grew sympathetic as he stepped up to kiss her. "I'm sorry, babe. I know it's hard."

"Did you ever…lose soldiers? In Iraq?" She pushed the door open and they both stepped inside.

While it clearly wasn't his favorite topic, he didn't shy away from sharing. "A few," he admitted with a shrug. "Not as many as it could've been. But even one is too many."

Jane nodded, flashing on Frost yet again. Would it ever get easier to accept the fact that her partner's smiling face would no longer be a part of her daily routine? She made a beeline for the bedroom while Casey headed into the kitchen.

"I thought you would have headed straight to work from Maura's?" his voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of the running faucet. Jane rifled through the contents of her closet, scanning for that one hanger that was always encased in a suit bag.

"Normally, I would," she called back. "But Frost's memorial service is today and…" she trailed off, her voice catching. Tears welled, blurring her vision, and she clutched the sleeve of one of her blazers in a white-knuckled fist as her chest tightened with restrained sobs. _Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry…_

She cleared her throat and managed to finish the sentence without sounding too strangled. "And I needed to pick up my uniform."

He came to stand quietly in the doorway as she pulled her uniform from its bag and hanger and laid it on the bed. "Is everything okay, Jane?"

She froze for a moment, her back to him, fingertips resting lightly on the badge pinned to the front of her dress blues. "No. It's not. I can't lie and pretend everything is okay. Because it's not." She shook her head, pressed her lips together. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face her husband. To face the sympathy and concern in his eyes. She couldn't let him see her crumble.

"Well," he murmured, "if you ever want to talk about it, with someone not associated with the precinct, I'm –"

"I'm not one of your wounded vets that you can fix with words of sympathy and encouragement," she snapped. Instant regret flooded her in a hot wave. She turned, then, and dared to look at his face.

His gaze on her was heated with hurt, his jaw tight with restrained anger. Clearly he was biting his tongue.

"Look, Casey," she said with a grimace, shoulders slumping. "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of the work you've done. It's wonderful, how you help those guys who come back and don't know what to do with themselves." His face softened. Mollified. "But I have to figure out what to do myself. On my own. There are things that I have to do," she pressed her palm to her chest, "things I have to think about, that…don't include you. They can't. I need to handle it alone right now. I'm sorry."

He looked lost, fumbling for what to say next. She could see the confusion in his eyes, how he had reached out to help her and could not understand why she wasn't reaching back. "We really should discuss this at some point," he admonished halfheartedly. "I just want to help, Jane."

"I know. I know you do." She sighed. "And we will. Just not…now."

He nodded, conceding reluctantly. He lingered a moment, looking as though he wanted to go to her, embrace her, kiss her, perhaps. But he eventually gave up, correctly reading her body language as that of a wounded animal. He turned and left the room.

_And so it begins, _Jane thought with a quiet sigh. She had seen this coming the moment she found out Frost had been killed. But even knowing it would happen, she felt powerless to stop it. She had always dreaded that this would happen one day. In fact, she'd anticipated with painful certainty that it would. That something would happen, something so painful that she would have no idea what to do with herself, and in a last-ditch desperate effort of emotional self-preservation, she would isolate herself from everyone she ever cared about. That she would drive away and alienate those who strove to "be there" for her, because she couldn't stand the thought of dragging them down into the same darkness she was slipping toward. Knowing herself, knowing how she tended to operate, she feared this would happen when the possibility of marrying Casey became real.

She just didn't expect it would happen this soon.


	16. Chapter 16

Maura stepped out of her Prius to find a modest crowd already beginning to gather at the burial site just outside Boston. When her cigarette heels hit pavement, she shut the car door behind her and checked her watch; it was nine-thirty. With the service slated to begin at ten that morning, she sighed in relief that she wasn't late. She had awoken much later than she intended; the combination of the emotionally trying conclusion to her night and falling asleep on the couch – instead of in her bed – served to give her a restless night. The break in her routine made her forget to set her alarm. It was by the providence of sheer force of habit that she woke up with adequate time to shower and dress for the funeral.

As she approached the gathering, she scanned for familiar faces – the faces of those with whom she would most like to stand next to during the formalities preceding Frost's body's subterranean descent. She glanced over Korsak and Cavanagh until her eyes found Jane, in full uniform, standing at the side of the coffin that was furthest from Maura. Coffee-colored eyes were downcast, fixated on an indistinct point in the grass at her feet. Dark circles – periorbital discoloration – crouched beneath them.

Maura was disheartened – but not surprised – to see her beloved friend so utterly dejected and sleep-deprived. So many times, Jane had been her strength when she felt she had so little of her own. Consequently, when the detective's dynamic personality became lackluster with defeat, Maura feared there was precious little hope for herself. It frightened her.

Jane shifted her weight slightly, and the movement was enough to render Casey visible from Maura's vantage point. He stood just behind Jane, face grim, jaw set. He reached for Jane when she appeared to shudder, but to Maura's surprise, the detective shrugged her husband off. He hesitated a moment, lingering at her shoulder and uncertain. Jane inclined her head slightly and murmured something to him over her shoulder, to which he replied only by turning slowly on his heel and striding over to wait beneath the shade of a live oak tree.

Maura felt her shoulders slump as she watched the silent drama unfold before her. Jane had begun to push, to alienate those closest to her. The medical examiner knew from firsthand experience that her best friend would, in the coming weeks and months, proceed to draw her stoicism around herself like a chainmail straightjacket – at once trying to shore up her crumbling defenses, protect her raw and wounded heart, and suppress her deepest emotions in an effort to become numb.

It wouldn't work. It never did.

Those who loved Jane most – who loved her best – would suffer the greatest hurt from her rejection. Maura found herself dreading the foreseeable future, apprehension gnawing at her insides even as she drew up beside Jane just in time for the service to begin. She risked a glance into that heartbreakingly beautiful face and found tears standing in her eyes, perching precariously on long, dark lashes. Jane hardly seemed to notice she was there. She was shutting down already, hands balled into fists so tight that the knuckles and scar tissue stood out in stark relief against the pale olive of her skin.

Seeing Jane like this, knowing how hard she was trying to "stay strong" and hold it together, to keep it all in, Maura ached all the more. She longed all the more deeply to reach out to Jane. She found herself empathizing with Casey, of all people, understanding his desire to give comfort as it came in direct conflict with Jane's determination to isolate herself.

Coping with this internal struggle on top of the renewed grief she felt at Frost's loss proved exhausting for Maura. She was afraid the stress of such intense cognitive dissonance would induce a bout of hives, but she found a strange relief when it came time for Jane to step up to the podium and say a few words.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N : **I want to extend my deepest and sincerest gratitude to all of you for reading and reviewing this story - and for sticking with it so far. Those of you who have expressed your frustrations with certain characters have been noted, and your frustrations will not be in vain, I promise. For now, this is me just stretching my angst muscles, as it were. People in love do stupid things sometimes. People in denial also do stupid things sometimes. People in mourning do stupid things sometimes. Just remember, I'm trying to keep our ladies human, and right now they're dealing with all three emotional states at once - even if they may not be fully aware of it. Give them some grace. The struggles now will, I hope, make the resolution all the sweeter when it does come. Until then, please continue to be patient, and enjoy the ride! Thanks again, I love you all a ton, and continue to share your thoughts! I love reader feedback of any variety.

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She had felt it when Maura had come to stand beside her. She hadn't been able to feel anything else up to that point. Even standing in place, fixing her gaze on a single point on the ground, Jane had felt as though she was adrift, impervious to gravity in the most disconcerting sense. Casey's attempts to reassure her with physical affection failed to have any impact. In fact, she felt even more lost and confused with him at her side.

_Why does it feel like I don't know what I'm doing anymore? _she thought.

Then Maura seemed to materialize beside her.

Suddenly, that was air she was breathing.

That was the ground she could feel under her shoes.

Those were Maura's fingertips almost brushing her sharply protruding knuckles.

All her thoughts and emotions bled together and left her floating in an incomprehensible blur, but Maura anchored her. Maura's presence – the warmth she radiated – was the first thing Jane had actually _felt_ that day.

But Jane was left with little time to process this, as Cavanagh was just finishing his turn at the podium. Jane knew she was next. She drew a deep, bracing breath in and sighed it out, risking a sidelong glance at Maura as she did so. Tear tracks shown on her best friend's cheeks as she gazed at the coffin. Jane was missing her partner, and that hurt. But seeing Maura weeping silently like this was a far worse pain in that moment.

She stepped forward and traded places with the lieutenant at the podium. She dreaded public speaking. Always had. But Frost was her partner. It made sense she would have to share a few brief words in his honor. Now facing the gathering of people who had come to pay their respects, she scanned the faces while she gathered her thoughts. She briefly reviewed the hastily scrawled notes she'd penned early that morning before she left her apartment. After she'd emotionally slammed the door in her husband's face. She glanced down at her hands, drew another breath, and looked up directly at Frost's parents. His mother gave her a tearful but encouraging nod. Bolstered by this, Jane plunged ahead.

"Um," she shifted her weight slightly. _Get it together, Rizzoli. One thing at a time. Just…say it like you're talking to Korsak. Or Maura. Say it to Maura. _She made fleeting eye contact with her best friend. It was enough to get her going. "Detective Barry Frost was…a rare gem. Even as a rookie detective, he had qualities that you couldn't teach. As partners, we'd been through our share of tough interviews – breaking bad news to friends and family that victims left behind. Detective Frost – Barry – always treated each person as if their time was as valuable to us as it was to them.

"You see a lot of terrible things in this line of work. You see the very worst that human beings are capable of." She gave a small shrug. "That's just the reality of it. In the beginning of a career in law enforcement, you might lose a couple of nights' sleep over a difficult case here and there." Here she paused a moment, cursing what she was now convinced was her own manifestation of PTSD. Hoyt's colorless eyes and deeply lined face loomed in her mind for a moment. She struggled with the next few words, consulting her notes again so as not to lose her place. "And I'd be lying if I said it gets easier to deal with. 'Easier' is not the right word. Every detective – every cop – eventually finds their own way to cope. Some cops get to the point where basically nothing phases them.

"But Frost…" her throat began to close. There were so many memories she hadn't sifted through yet. She looked down again. Breathed, gathered herself. When she raised her eyes, they locked on Maura of their own accord. It seemed like she and Maura, regardless of how lost they felt, would always find each other. She hoped it was true. Maura managed an encouraging smile, and Jane couldn't help feeling that the tears now freshly falling from her best friend's eyes were not merely from mourning, but from pride as well. Yes, that tearful smile seemed to say, "I'm proud of you, Jane." The thought steadied her enough to continue. "Frost wasn't like that. He never…got to that point. He never lost his sense of humor, his ability to make us laugh when we needed it. But more importantly," here she abandoned her notes and looked out at the small gathering, "he never stopped caring. He never got so tired that he just quit, never got so angry and frustrated that he gave up. I think his compassion and his empathy for other people always won out. It seems like a liability when you're in the field and you feel that way. It feels like…like you're being weak." Her she found herself looking Korsak in the eye. So much passed between herself and the sergeant in that breath of a moment. "But really," she gripped the edges of the podium a little tighter, her voice cracking, "I think it was his greatest strength.

"As cops, we're all motivated by the pursuit of justice. That's why we train, why we go out and risk our necks sometimes," here again she found Maura's eyes, "and why, some other times, we spend hours hunched in front of computers or flipping through piles of case files looking for answers. We defend and we uphold the law because it's our job, the job we chose. Frost always reminded me that…our job doesn't stop at enforcing the law. It's not just 'protect.' It's 'protect and _serve._'" She tore her eyes from Maura's and made eye contact with Frost's mother again. She was beaming through her tears. Jane almost couldn't continue. "Frost didn't just want to protect people. He wanted to serve them. That's what made him special. Why he was such a joy to work with every day. And why," tears slid unbidden from her eyes and her voice threatened to fail her, but she found Maura's eyes again and pushed through until she was breathless, "why I am so proud to have called him my partner."

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**A/N: **Be forewarned, there will be some serious Casey in the next chapter, but he'll fade out of the story pretty quickly after that. I don't want to say any more, as I am very anti-spoiler. Thanks for bearing with my interpretation of the characters.


	18. Chapter 18

Maura watched her step down from the podium, those dark eyes on hers so openly wounded. It took Maura's breath away. Jane seemed only able to look at her, only able to see her. Jane's escaped tears had since been dashed away, but Maura couldn't help but see the pain that was still there in her gaze, couldn't help but imagine the tears were still falling. She had to look away. Those dark irises absorbed her, magnetized her into whatever emotion roiled behind them. This frightened Maura. It had frightened her last night, and it frightened her all the more now. It was an effect she could never reason away.

More to the point, she didn't want to.

In tearing her glance away from her best friend, she let her eyes drift from face to face. She landed on Casey first, still standing alienated beneath the live oak several yards away. Abandoning that vision, Maura scanned the rest of the crowd. Her eyes came to rest on a very familiar but unexpected face.

Rondo. He, like Casey, stood several yards away, observing the proceedings from afar.

_He must have heard news of Frost's death from out on the streets, _she mused.

She immediately whipped around to see if Jane had noticed him and to gauge her reaction. Jane had clearly not seen him. She was speaking in an undertone to Frost's mother, some distance away from Maura.

"You catch whoever did this, Detective," the woman demanded in a choked voice.

"I will do everything – _everything _– I can to find him and make him pay. I promise you," Maura could just make out Jane replying with quiet intensity. Her eyes flitted to meet Maura's but swiftly darted away. Frustrated, Maura looked back at Rondo. He met her eyes, glanced to Jane, and then returned his gaze to Maura. Then he looked to the coffin and back to Maura. Realization seemed to dawn in his dark face then, and he reached up and pulled off the knit cap he always wore and clutched it tightly before him. His usual boisterous charisma was completely deflated, and he cast one more sheepish, almost longing glance in Jane's before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Rondo!" Jane cried in a soft, broken voice, making him turn back. She'd seen him.

Maura ducked her head and stepped quietly aside as Jane brushed past her to greet her sometimes-C.I.

"Rondo," Jane said again as she drew near to him.

"Hey, Vanilla," he murmured in reply. Maura heard Jane choke back a sob at the nickname she'd always pretended to loathe. "I heard…I heard all about it. On the street. What happened."

Jane nodded, unable to speak above a whisper. "I thought you might."

He pinched and pulled at the cap in his hands. "I'm always listenin' out for you, Vanilla. And I…I'm sorry. We all liked Detective Frost. And he was your partner, so I know…"

Jane nodded again, tears spilling once more. From her vantage point, Maura ached to wipe them away. Jane dashed her wrist across her cheeks and beneath her nose. "Thank you for coming, Rondo." She put her hand on his arm. "Really. Thank you."

He nodded, reaching one finger up to barely brush her zygomatic bone, then stepped away. He turned abruptly to look Maura in the eye. He pointed at her. "You take good care of my Vanilla, Doctor Isles, hear?" Then he walked off before she could do more than nod. There was no room for debate with an edict like that.

Maura ducked her head again to avoid Jane's probing stare now directed at her. "I will," Maura whispered to herself. "Because God knows she won't take care of herself like she should."

Casey approached then, already reaching for Jane. "Let me take you home," he said softly.

She gave no indication that she'd heard him, staring blankly at the place Rondo had vacated.

"Jane, please. You really should rest." His pleading tone reminded Maura oddly of herself. She often took this tack with Jane when her friend struggled through difficult times.

When she came to the present, Jane patently refused to comply with her husband's urging. "No Casey," she said softly. "I think I'm going to go to work."

He released her, ceasing his gentle tugging on her arm. But he remained standing resolutely in place, looking her directly in the eye. "In your uniform?"

Jane looked down at herself as if realizing for the first time what she was wearing. "I brought a change of clothes. They're in the trunk." Her voice was quiet, toneless, matter-of-fact. The sound of it worried Maura far more than the broken whisper with which she had addressed Rondo.

Casey mashed his lips together, jaw clenched. "Then can I at least drive you to work?" he ground out.

"You can take my car back. I'll just get my clothes out and," she turned suddenly to Maura, "Maura, may I carpool to the precinct with you?" It was a testament to the lingering awkwardness from last night that she felt it necessary to expressly ask Maura's permission to ride with her.

Upon a brief but thorough examination of her own feelings, Maura found she harbored no resentment for Jane as a result of last night's drunken debacle. Nevertheless, she panicked. She wanted – she considered it a privilege – to help in any way that Jane would allow, to be there for Jane the way Jane had always been there for her. Yet, their kiss last night had served to heighten the intensity of Maura's already strong feelings for Jane, and as emotionally vulnerable as they both currently were, she feared being so near the detective now.

Her hands came together at her waist, fingers intertwining. She nodded meekly. "Yes of course."

The look of immense relief and gratitude on Jane's face struck a pang in Maura's heart.

"Jane," Casey interjected. "I can't let you do this. You're exhausted; I don't think you're ready to go back. You know, it's okay to take some time, stay home, let yourself grieve. You have the opportunity. Take it. But don't push yourself over the brink."

She rounded on him sharply, a small glint of her old fire returning to her eyes. "You think I'm not letting myself grieve?" she demanded. Her voice cracked precariously, but she kept on, softening only slightly at the look of surprise on his face. "Casey, I know you mean well, but I'm the only one who can decide how I handle…," she gestured vaguely to their surroundings, "all this." Then her voice once again dropped drastically in volume, its usual rich husk reduced to rasping whisper. "You have to let me do some things my way, okay? Just…" She trailed off, clearly unable to finish. She turned away, shaking her head, and practically fled to her car to retrieve her work clothes.

Casey dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh. "She won't let me help her," he murmured to no one in particular, but then his eyes found Maura, still standing some distance away. He seemed to plead with her with his gaze, asking nonverbally for any clue as to where he'd gone wrong. Maura, for her part, managed to convey sympathy in her returned glance, proffering a slight shrug that said, _She's stubborn. It's not all you._

He hesitated a moment, but then approached Maura. "How are you, Doctor Isles?"

She had to be honest. "I'm just trying to process like everyone else." She debated a moment on whether to comment further and what to say, finally settling on, "Grief changes people. And it takes time to heal." _The human body is remarkably elastic. It possesses an incredible natural ability to heal itself of almost any ailment or injury. The human psyche, on the other hand, is something of a paradox. It, too, is resilient, but also exceptionally_ _fragile. Compared to the capabilities of the physical body, the psyche – that is to say, the mind and emotions; what some say comprises the 'soul' – is not nearly so robust._

"Frost was a good guy," Casey acknowledged. He looked off in the general direction that Jane had retreated. "I don't understand her, Maura." He sounded as though he was just reaching this conclusion now. "I love her, but I don't…get her."

"She is very complex," Maura agreed, feeling relatively safe in the reply. _And no, _she thought. _You clearly do not understand her. _

Seeing he would find no greater sympathy or explanation with the medical examiner, Casey saw his way clear to make an exit. "I should go." His steps faltered a moment, then he turned to face her once more. "You're always there for her. You always have been. And I…haven't." He sighed through his nose, clearly frustrated. "I guess I should thank you. For…keeping her in one piece, I suppose. While I was away. So…thank you, Maura."

She managed a weak smile. "It is always my pleasure to be there for her when she needs it." _Though I didn't do it for you. _Banishing further unkind thoughts, she headed for her Prius.

Jane met her halfway, looking even more drained than she had at the beginning of the service. "Maura, I…I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking for the umpteenth time that day. She swiped away a tear, took a deep breath and huffed it out. "I'm not going to bullshit you with excuses. I know what I did, I knew what I was doing when I did it." She bit her lip. "I wanted it." She met Maura's eyes then darted her gaze away. Swallowed. "You're the easiest person ever for me to talk to, but there's times like right now where it's so…damn…hard to say what's actually going on with me. I can't tell you all the things I feel." She crossed her arms, clutching her own elbows. "I'm bad with words and I've…I've got a lot on my plate. Up there." She pointed to her head, then dropped her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She sighed as fresh tears leaked out of eyes now squeezed tightly shut. "I've just gotta figure some things out."

Searching her best friend's face, Maura felt her heart and mind stutter out of sync. She was so afraid to reach out and touch Jane, yet she wanted nothing more. Her fingers caught Jane's left hand as it fell from her face, capturing and cradling it in both of her own. She glided her palm over sharply protruding knuckles. Jane's eyes slowly opened, liquid brown meeting with green and gold in a neutral place of quiet peace.

"I'm so sorry, Maura," Jane whispered. "I can't say it enough. I just hope you can forgive me somewhere down the road."

Maura shook her head, at last finding the words. "There's nothing to forgive." She touched Jane's cheek for the briefest breath of a moment, fingertips brushing feather-light against temple and jaw. Jane was trembling almost imperceptibly, but in that moment Maura felt it. _She's too weak even to push, _she thought, wary of Jane's eventual efforts to drive away anyone who would get close to her when she was this wounded.

Grounded, Jane gave one last slow sigh and stood up a little straighter. She hurriedly brushed the last of her tears from her face and made for Maura's car. "C'mon. Let's bring this bastard down."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: The reviews on this story have been so unexpectedly spectacular! I cannot express enough how much I appreciate the support. On this site I've received some of the highest quality feedback a writer can hope for, and the feedback demonstrates that I have readers who are invested in the story, which is the strongest motivator for me. So please, don't stop! Keep reading, keep loving our ladies for who they are and letting them do their thing. And please keep writing in to let me know what you think! I love to hear from you. I truly do.

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter to you, but life has been a hectic mess - and not all bad - lately, and finding time to sit down and hash things out on my computer keys has been a challenge. But I finally made some time and ended up cranking out a bunch more work than I anticipated, so I've got a couple of chapters headed your way very soon! Yay for back-to-back updates! Anyway, your patience with my sporadic updating is saintly and much appreciated by yours truly. Enjoy!

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"Any hits on that BOLO?" Jane strode into the bullpen with a file folder hanging loosely from her hand, and coffee clutched in the other. The air conditioning system groaned through the vents as it kicked on for the first time that morning. Fans buzzed on desks, and as she passed Korsak's work space, air from the two fans he had standing guard against the unyielding humidity lifted raven waves from her shoulders. For a moment, she looked almost like her old, fiery self.

She reached her own desk, daring only a cursory glance at the neighboring desk where her partner used to be. She perched herself on the edge of her chair and leveled her dark gaze at the sergeant.

Korsak returned her stare with an even gaze of his own. "Jane, you've been asking every day for three whole weeks whether we've gotten hits and the answer is _always_ –"

"– no." She sighed. "I know." She rubbed her forehead.

"I talked to Martinez and Frankie earlier," he offered. "They said that, from what they've gathered about this group, the guy we're looking for –,"

"– who killed three of our best and promptly slipped through our fingers?" Jane interjected hotly.

Korsak nodded. "One and the same. Get this – they're telling me he was a CI."

Jane slumped back in her desk chair. Crestfallen. "But they've said before that with known ties to local gangs and the cartels trying to make an in here, he's in our system, right? He shouldn't be that hard to find."

"To find, not really, no. But to make a move? Jane, Martinez said these cartels have been working the entire eastern seaboard for months now, apparently in efforts to traffic more drugs across more state borders all up and down the east coast." Korsak shrugged, clearly feeling defeated himself. "He's likely found away north or south of here, and in either case –,"

"He's out of our jurisdiction. Damn it." She resisted the urge to try heaving her desk on its end. "But you can't blame a girl for hoping," she added gruffly, yanking open the top left drawer of her desk and pulling out a hair tie. She deftly swept her hair into a ponytail and shrugged out of her blazer. Summer in Boston left her feeling sticky and restless, but it was the one time of the year that she suffered minimal pain in her hands. The only time she felt any serious discomfort was whenever a storm cell moved in. She loved listening to thunder and rain when it came some evenings, but Maura had once explained that "significant changes in barometric pressures – such as precede the approach of a summer storm – often exacerbate the symptoms of arthritis patients," and were likely the cause of the twinges she'd feel in her hands on those rainy days in summer. The rest of the time her hands felt practically normal. The warmth agreed with them, whereas the cold did not. And for that small respite in the midst of her emotional ordeal, she was grateful.

_Wonder how she's doing, _Jane thought as she rubbed her palms together and logged in to her email. She hadn't really spoken to Maura in weeks. Not about anything that mattered. She kept their conversations succinct and limited to case-related topics. She told herself couldn't handle the probing stares and gentle touches that asked what Maura was afraid to ask with words.

But if Jane was honest with herself, she would concede that it was her own fear that kept her away. Maura's mere presence made her feel things that permeated even through her grief…

"Good morning, Jane."

Jane looked up from her email inbox to find Maura looking stunning but a little tired in a sky blue silk blouse, khaki pencil skirt and nude pumps. Her tone was forced, professional. It hurt, Jane had to admit, but it was easier to cope with than the softness and warmth in her voice that made Jane deeply conscious of how much pain she was in. Maura's ability to see past her façade made it impossible to deny how vulnerable she felt. Bare, exposed, weak. Jane was able to keep the true depths of her grief hidden from most, but not Maura. Never Maura. Maura knew the extent of her hurt.

Maura had power over her.

"Hi," Jane replied hoarsely.

Maura hesitated a moment, appearing to struggle with keeping up the pretense of businesslike cordiality. Then she stepped forward, dropping the Dr. Isles mask back over the flicker of concern and extending the clipboard she'd carried in on her arm. "The results came in for the tox screen you asked me to run. For the Felton case." Setting the clipboard on the edge of Jane's desk, Maura pointed to a figure on the chart. "You were right about the traces of oxycodone in the second victim's system."

Jane's eyes skimmed over the chart then darted back to Maura's face. Her expression was impassive, but the hazel eyes couldn't quite resist begging Jane to speak, to open up.

For a moment, the detective was tempted. Exhaustion made her want so badly to give in.

_You give in now, you lose your momentum, _she thought. _You lose momentum, and you'll never get going again. Forward movement is the only thing keeping you alive. You have to keep moving for Frost._

"'Kay, thanks. I'll take a closer look."

Maura looked confused for a moment. Jane despised her own ability to catch all those in-between moments where Maura let the mask slip. It made it that much harder to keep her own mask in place. But just as quickly as it fell, the pretense was restored. She gave a stiff nod and turned on her heel.

As soon as Maura was out of the bullpen, Jane caught Korsak staring at her. "What did I do?"

Korsak scrambled for a quick answer. "It's just…have you two really spoken since the funeral?"

"Yes," Jane said, indignation sharpening her voice in spite of herself.

Korsak cocked a skeptical grey brow. "About anything other than cases."

"Ye –," Jane realized there was no pulling one over on Korsak. She sighed and passed her hand roughly over her face. "No."

"I hate to pry but, did something happen between you and Maura?"

"No, not really. Not exactly. It's…complicated." She huffed out another sigh. "It's not just her. I haven't really talked much…to anyone."

"Your mother?"

Jane shook her head, slowly sliding her face down into her palms. Hiding.

"Frankie?"

"Nope." She slumped a little further in her desk chair.

Korsak hesitated, probably unsure whether he wanted to hear her response to the next name. "Casey?" He winced.

Her voice was muffled. "God…no. I kept telling him I needed space and he finally took me literally. He's been," she grimaced as she looked up at Korsak, ashamed of her inability to maintain healthy relationships, "He's staying at a hotel. We haven't really spoken."

"Jesus, Jane. How long?"

"Couple weeks?" she offered weakly. "Wasn't long after the funeral." She propped her chin wearily on a fist. "I'm just…we're all dealing with a lot of shit. And…I don't even know anymore." She buried her face in her hands.

"Jane."

"Mmph."

"Jane, look at me."

She begrudgingly lifted her head.

"I know it's hard. I know you'd rather not talk about it because it hurts." He shrugged. "I get it. I do. But you can't keep shutting people out. It's not healthy."

"Do you know how many times I've heard that already?" she growled. "You sound like Maura." Exasperated with his look of concern, she rolled her eyes. "I _can't _talk about it, Korsak, because I wasn't _there._ I wasn't there, Vince! I wasn't there for Frost, for any of you. And then to show up in the aftermath and try to help pick up the pieces…I sometimes feel like I've got no business here." She flung her arm out in an emphatic gesture. "I was off enjoying myself, being _a newlywed _while the shit was hitting the fan here."

"You had no way of knowing."

"But that's just it! I _should _have known!" She shook her head, swallowing hard, but remaining dry-eyed. "I just feel like I should've known. And I should have been here. "

Korsak's phone rang. "Sergeant Korsak," he answered reluctantly, eyes still on Jane. He nodded at whatever the person on the other end was saying. "Understood. We'll head out now." Hanging up, he gave Jane a grim look. "Sorry, but we've got a body. Beacon Hill."

Jane shoved to her feet and froze. _Maura's neighborhood._ She grabbed her blazer off the back of her chair and shrugged it on, long strides carrying her out the door just ahead of Korsak.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Yay for back-to-back updates! I feel so accomplished! Hope you like. ;) This one's a little longish.

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"What do we have?" Jane demanded of the nearest uniform as she stepped out of the sedan with Korsak in tow.

"Elderly lady that lives in this house here," he pointed to a trim little house just down the street, now encircled in yellow crime scene tape, "was adding a couple little trees to her backyard. Guess she dug deep enough to find a prize. Says her shovel hit something that looked like plaid. Dug a little deeper and found a guy buried. She's got no clue who he is or who put him there. Her son's with her now."

She nodded. "Thanks." Ducking under the yellow tape, she turned to Korsak. "Gotta make sure we talk to her before we leave. Preferably alone."

"Agreed."

They skirted the house, passing the CSU van as they made for the gate leading to the back yard. Maura was already standing over the unearthed body – still in its shallow grave – pulling on gloves. She'd forgone her heels from this morning and donned a pair of bright yellow Wellington boots, strikingly similar to those Jane had loaned her for the beach floater case about a year ago. _God, why'd it have to happen in her neck of the woods? On top of everything else, she doesn't deserve to deal with this._ Maura made fleeting eye contact with Jane before launching into her typical diatribe of initial observations. "Judging by the condition of the flesh due to invertebrate consumption, I would estimate time of burial…"

Only half-listening, Jane slipped into auto-pilot and crouched down to take a careful look at the body for herself. It was hard to gauge because the guy had been worm-food for a little while now, but he looked to be in his mid-twenties, and in fairly good shape – aside from being very, very dead. She looked closer. In the breast pocket of what appeared to be a plaid flannel shirt, a little edge of something white seemed to be peeking out. She pulled out a pair of gloves that she'd stashed in her blazer pocket and snapped them on.

"What do you see, Jane?" Korsak said.

"He's got something in his breast pocket. Might be a phone number?" Jane reached into the hole and pulled at the white thing. It was a folded piece of paper. When she opened it, a flattened white flower fell out.

Korsak retrieved it and handed it to Jane, who snagged a fold of Maura's blazer sleeve between her fingers. Maura obeyed the silent gesture and leaned closer, inspecting the flower. "It appears to be a pressed lily," she concluded.

"Lily," Jane repeated thoughtfully.

"Yes," Maura said, gently taking the lily from Jane's hand. "A white stargazer lily, to be exact. _Lilium archelirion_. The white stargazer is often associated with expressions of sympathy in Western culture."

Korsak grunted. "Think the killer knew that?"

Maura shook her head, straightening. "Much too early to even begin to speculate why the flower was even there, let alone the killer's knowledge of the plant's significance." She looked to Jane, who had returned to her crouched position at the edge of the impromptu garden grave. "It is an interesting coincidence, though." She returned the flower to Korsak, turned and strode over toward the house, presumably to talk to some CSU staff about transporting the body.

"Coincidence, sure," Jane muttered to no one in particular. "There's something written on the paper, too," she said, unfolding it again. "'No harm, no foul.' The hell is that supposed to mean?"

She mentally faltered a moment when Maura failed to respond with a literal answer to her rhetorical question. Then she remembered Maura had stepped away to delegate. She sighed, looking from the paper to the body and back again. Finally she gave up. There was nothing more to be seen here, that she could tell. She reached back without looking, extending the paper behind her. "Frost, take the note and the flower to CSU for –," her voice choked off as she realized her error, her whole body going rigid with tension. She angled her head slightly, afraid to make eye contact with either of her colleagues, but detecting no movement out of her peripheral vision. "_Shit,_" she whispered brokenly, and stood up. Brushing absently at her slacks, she turned and pushed past Korsak, wrist pressed beneath her nose in a vain effort to conceal her growing distress. She barely saw Maura through the tears blurring her vision as she passed her.

* * *

But Maura saw her.

Glancing from Jane's retreating form back to Korsak standing bewildered beside the flower bed, Maura excused herself from the discussion with CSU staff and made a beeline through the investigative bustle toward the sergeant.

"What's wrong with Jane? What did you say to her?" she demanded, feeling a sudden rise of righteous anger.

Korsak backed a step and held up his hands. "I didn't say a thing. She started to ask for Frost, I think, and then realized…anyway, it was hard for me to hear her, and she took off before I could ask."

Taking in his defensive posture, Maura relaxed. She realized in that moment how naturally protective she felt of Jane when her best friend was hurting. She didn't feel it often because Jane so rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, but there had been some key points in their history together that the usual roles of protector and protected reversed. In those watershed moments, Maura felt it not only her duty, but her honor to stand sentinel over the remarkably tender heart that Jane normally kept so carefully ensconced in toughness and bravado. In those moments, she found it startlingly easy to cast aside her usual meekness and civility.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant."

"I get it, Maura. You care about her a lot. We all do."

Maura nodded, feeling her throat constrict slightly. "I'll go talk to her."

He offered a small smile. "Good idea."

She found Jane leaning against the side of the house on the other side of the gate, next to the green waste dumpster. Out of sight. Her forearm was pressed against the wall and she had her forehead leaned against it. The other hand was cupped over her mouth, evidently attempting to stifle any sobs that might escape. Jane was typically hypervigilant at a crime scene; it was impossible to sneak up on her on an average day in the field. But now, without making a particular effort to be stealthy, Maura was able to draw quite close to her friend without Jane appearing to take notice.

Curious, and frankly desperate to mend the breach of coldness and hurt between them, Maura reached out.

Jane jumped when tentative fingertips made contact with her shoulder. But still she didn't look up. She stood right where she was, shaking silently.

Alarmed that Jane was making no effort to pull herself together – like she usually did on the rare occasions when Maura discovered her weeping – Maura dared to edge closer, sliding her hand slowly across her friend's back.

"It's habit," Jane choked out finally, knocking her fist against the siding. "I say his name out of sheer _habit._" The crying started to wrack her entire body, and her knees began to buckle.

Jane had a track record of refusing offers of physical comfort and reassurance in the past week or so. She had so steadfastly denied her need or want for even the slightest touch of physical affection, that Maura had withdrawn from her – more so than she ever had in the past. The withdrawal had proven surprisingly difficult. But rather than endure the repeated rejection of even her platonic advances to support her best friend, Maura made the challenging decision to give Jane the space she thought she needed. She did it as much out of respect for Jane's apparently tenuous relationship with her husband as she did in accordance with her express wishes to be left primarily alone.

But this was too much to bear. Maura had done as best she could to stand back while Jane "figured things out," but at this point her aimless struggle was abundantly clear. Maura had to step in.

Exasperated, she murmured, "I can't just watch you struggle anymore." Catching Jane as she sank, she gingerly guided the detective to angle their bodies together. Too spent and stricken by unresolved grief to resist, the detective complied. Though they remained standing, Maura felt like she was cradling Jane in her arms. Her best friend felt lighter than Maura remembered, but she thought perhaps that was only because it had been weeks since she'd even touched Jane, let alone put her arms around her.

While Jane fought to get her breathing under control, Maura lifted her head and glanced back at the crime scene. Korsak passed near the gate and risked a look in their direction. He seemed to take everything in after only a second. He wore a vague question on his face, and Maura shook her head silently in reply. _It'll be a while before she's ready. _Korsak nodded his understanding and turned to take charge of processing and cleaning up what remained of the scene.

Reassured that they were again alone, Maura tightened her grip just slightly as Jane finally took some deeper breaths. Encouraging the flow of oxygen with her own example of calming breaths, Maura took the fleeting opportunity to take Jane in – scent and sensation. It had been too long since she'd enjoyed this unique privelege of physical closeness with Jane, and she didn't know when she'd have another opportunity. Their relationship - strained by grief more than a little repressed desire - remained tenuous.

Then one last shuddering sigh signaled that the detective was as ready as she'd ever be to face the rest of the day.

"I'm screwing up, Maura," Jane admitted quietly as she exhaled. "I feel like I'm getting everything wrong, but I don't know which way is up anymore."

Maura pulled back, but didn't release her completely. In that moment, it felt safe to gently take Jane's face in both her hands and hold her gaze for a moment. "That's perfectly normal."

"It doesn't feel normal. Nothing feels normal."

Maura nodded. "No. And it won't for a while. That's what grief does." She dropped her hands to Jane's shoulders, gripping them firmly.

Jane looked away.

_It's not enough, _Maura thought. _She's not buying it. You're not helping. Say more._

"But Jane," she said, lifting her best friend's chin with the tips of her fingers, "You're not helping yourself, or the people that love you, by trying to keep it to yourself. There is no such thing as not feeling. There is only postponing the inevitable, and the longer you put it off, the more it is going to hurt coming out." She felt tears sting her own eyes at this last sentence. She had no idea where the boldness to say these things was coming from.

Jane nodded her understanding, then shook her head. "It's not that easy. You make it sound easy and it's not."

"I know it's not. Trust me. I know. But…will you at least try?"

Jane just looked at her.

"I'm not asking you to wear your heart on your sleeve all the time, around everyone. But sometimes, when its hardest to bear on your own, will you trust me, trust your family, to help you?"

Her friend's jaw clenched as she waged war internally. She lowered her head.

"That's all we want, Jane." Maura bit her lip, looked down at her bright yellow Wellingtons before looking back up at the heartbreakingly beautiful woman in front of her. "That's all I want."


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Thanks to Fenway03 and a couple of you other sweethearts out there, I've been poked and prodded and nagged to write more - and SOON - so here is another chapter! One or two more should be up by the end of the evening. But for now, thanks for reading, thanks for bugging, and please enjoy!

* * *

Jane nodded. It made sense in her heart. Perfect sense. That was one of the multitude of reasons why she loved Maura. Bitter emotions and difficult concepts were typically easier to swallow when Maura presented them. Because her best friend appealed to her logic and her emotions simultaneously.

_She's perfect for you. But you don't deserve her._

"Okay," was all she could manage to get out.

Clearly dissatisfied with the reply, but willing to roll with it, Maura let her go. "Okay?"

"Okay…I'll try," she rasped. "No guarantees." Guilt began to swirl in her stomach and she slowly backed away. _You don't deserve her. _"Gotta get back to work," she said weakly.

Maura nodded, eyes intent on her. Not so much waiting for her to slip up as much as just…ready to catch her if she did. "Alright…if you're ready." She looked and sounded doubtful. After all, she had just watched her friend fall completely apart right in front of her.

Jane shook her head as she pushed through the gate and took one last look at what was left of the crime scene. She felt a fleeting moment of pride at the short work Korsak and the team had made of it all.

"Pretty much everything's bagged up and ready to go if you'd like to start heading back to the precinct now," Korsak announced, coming from inside the house. He held up the notepad he always kept in the inside breast pocket of his sports jacket. "Statements all taken. Managed to get the lady alone for a few minutes to get her take on everything. It's pretty much like the uniform said. Unless…you'd like to go in and talk to her yourself?"

Jane shook her head. "No, I trust you. We can always come back if we need anything else. Let's get out of here."

Korsak shrugged. "Works for me."

They passed Frankie in the hall leading back to the bullpen. Jane caught his arm and pulled him aside.

"Janie, are you okay? You…don't look so hot." He peered into her face, no doubt noting the puffy redness of her eyes.

"Allergies. I'm fine."

Frankie's facial expression said that he wanted to call bullshit, but Jane could also read the empathy there. Neither of them were remotely "over" losing Frost. "'Kay. Hey, Ma says you kicked Casey out? What happened?"

Jane groaned loudly, but when she spoke she kept her voice down to a harsh, vehement whisper. "Why does she always assume it's _my _fault when my relationships – never mind. No, Frankie, I didn't kick him out. He left. He's staying in a hotel."

He frowned a cocked his head. "Jane."

"Look, it's a long-ass story that I don't feel like rehashing now. Maybe I'll fill you in on details later. In the meantime, you can tell Ma to mind her own goddamn business."

Her brother crossed his arms across his chest, but wisely refrained from questioning her further. "So what'd you stop me out here for?"

"I was just thinking, you're with the drug unit, so it's very possible you'll get word on that BOLO before any of us do. Just wanted to ask a favor, that if –,"

"– that if I hear anything about our guy being back in town, you want to know about it." He took her by the shoulders when she slumped in visible relief. "I got your six, Jane. I'll keep you posted as much as I can."

"Thanks, Frankie." She squeezed his forearms before he let her go. She normally wasn't very demonstrative with him at work, but given everything they'd been going through recently, she felt compelled to express a little more than usual. She reached up and kissed his cheek, murmuring, "I love you, little brother."

He nodded. "I know. Love you, too, Janie. But you should talk to Ma. She's…a little scared for you, Janie. And…I know I'm going out on a limb, here, but maybe you should talk to Casey?"

She gave him a dangerous look, but felt tears threaten to undermine her fragile composure.

"Just don't keep stuffing it in. Air it out."

She nodded tentatively, then turned on her heel. There was paperwork and research to be done. Results on that BOLO were still pending, but now she finally had a fresh open case to occupy her time while she waited to bring down Frost's murderer.

* * *

Maura was elbow-deep in the flowerbed corpse's innards when Jane elbowed her way through the swinging doors and greeted Maura with a cursory, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," came Maura's bemused reply. Jane hadn't been to visit her in the morgue in quite some time. It was a pleasant surprise to finally see her down there again. Tilting her head to one side, she said, "What are you –?"

"Do you want to go to lunch?" Jane blurted. She instantly joined her hands together and began to press and rub her scarred palms. "It's just, I…think I finally feel like eating. A little. Maybe."

Maura set down the bone saw and assessed Jane. Her scrutiny made Jane feel like she was on the other side of the interrogation room. She looked down at herself. Stress and high emotion wore her down and ruined her appetite. She'd lost weight; she knew her face must be drawn, shadowed, and pale from lack of quality sleep.

The flicker of hope in Maura's face nearly demolished what was left of the walls Jane had erected around her vulnerable emotions. She could practically hear her best friend's thoughts.

_Is this it? Has she finally turned a corner? Are things looking up for Jane?_

"I can take a break now. Did you have a place in mind?" She began stripping the gloves from her hands.

"I said I felt like maybe eating. Didn't say I was ready to make important life decisions, Maura," Jane rejoined with a dry chuckle.

Maura felt an overwhelming urge to hug her. She stepped around the autopsy table to act on the impulse, but stopped herself short. _Don't push it, Maura, _she told herself. "You're joking." An observation.

Jane looked taken aback by Maura's grin. "Um…yes. Yes, I am. Is that…okay?"

Maura affectionately touched her arm. "It's perfectly fine. Refreshing, actually." She added a chuckle of her own. "I like to see you being more yourself again."

The detective reflexively rubbed her upper arm where Maura's fingers had brushed her skin. "Yeah, well…don't get used to it just yet." A reminder that Jane was still a long way from feeling good again.

Maura's comment had coaxed forth a self-conscious, bashful smile from the detective, and Maura's grin broadened in reply. She felt the return of a warmth that had been absent from her life for too many weeks. "How about we keep it simple. Robber?" She wanted to choose something that would appeal to Jane's minimal appetite. Metabolically, Jane's manner of coping with stress created a vicious cycle. Highly emotional situations hit her so much harder when she didn't nourish herself properly. But in the heat of such moments, Jane often lost all interest in food, making it that much more difficult for herself to pull through.

Jane shrugged, but the smile remained, and Maura rejoiced inwardly. "Works for me."


	22. Chapter 22

"How are _you _feeling lately?" Jane asked as they stepped out of the Boston summer heat and into the artificially moderated temperatures of the Dirty Robber. "I mean, on top of everything else, this latest homicide is kinda in your neighborhood."

Maura nodded. "The thought had occurred to me. But I try not to dwell on it. An astonishing amount of crime happens each year in this city – and statistically, criminal activity increases in frequency during the summer…"

"Murder is definitely a fair-weather sport," Jane quipped.

Maura barely suppressed a smile. "Essentially, yes. But I don't let it deter me from living here. Besides, it's my job to help solve these crimes as efficiently and effectively as possible."

Jane couldn't help but notice that Maura hadn't exactly answered her question. "Well, if you ever have the least bit of concern about your safety…," she said as they sat down, "there's always my place."

Maura's head came up abruptly. "Thank you, but I think I'll be okay."

Jane saw, then, the discomfiture in Maura's face that she was trying to conceal. And she remembered the boundaries that had sprung up between and around them since Jane had gotten married. With Maura, it was so easy to forget that she technically shared her living space with her husband, though for now he was keeping his distance. The undeniably dynamic chemistry between herself and Maura remained a constant in both of their lives.

But the comfortable intimacy they had shared was no longer the norm.

Jane was stunned to realize then that she missed it. She missed Maura. Her best friend was right in front of her, and yet she missed her. She realized that she had wanted very much for Maura to admit she was a little nervous about a body turning up in Beacon Hill. She wanted that - she would gladly use her protective instinct as an excuse to have Maura close again. As close as before.

A faint, dull, ache settled in her heart then. _You screwed up, _she thought. _You picked the wrong person._ A leaden weight plummeted to the bottom of her stomach.

"Your mother has been asking me about you," Maura announced without preamble as the server brought their glasses of water and a basket of fries.

"Really?" Jane groaned, exasperation snapping her consciousness back to the present. "When will that woman learn to drop a thing?"

"Jane, she is a concerned mother. She…said that you and Casey…weren't speaking much."

"What, did she tell you to say that? Did she put you up to this?" Jane jabbed a sweet potato fry at Maura.

"No, she did not," Maura's voice remained level, her demeanor calm. Discarding any hesitation, she seized Jane's hand across the table. "Jane…look at me. I told you before, and nothing's changed: you are my business. And yes, I worry about you sometimes. Because I love you. That's why your mother nags, why Frankie teases, why Korsak asks you questions you sometimes don't want to answer."

"Maura…" Jane swiped angrily at her eyes with her free hand. She couldn't help herself from gripping Maura's just a little tighter. She wasn't even entirely sure why she did.

"But what I was going to say was that _if _you ever want to talk about any of this, I will listen. No judgment." Maura's thumb passed over the scar on the back of Jane's hand. "Whenever – if ever – you decide you're ready to open up, I will be your sounding board." She held Jane's hand and her gaze for a beat longer, then released her and sat back in her chair.

Jane took a breath. "I just –"

Maura's cell chimed. She clenched her jaw, trying to maintain an outward calm, despite her frustration at the timing of the call. Apologizing, she pulled her phone out to check the screen. She turned it for Jane to see. "It's your mother."

Jane rolled her eyes but gestured for Maura to answer it.

"Hello, Angela."

Jane could hear her mother's voice from across the table, squawking out the tiny speaker. _"Is Jane with you?"_

"Y-yes, she is…why? Do you need to speak to her?"

_"Tell her…"_

Upon hearing those words from her mother's lips, Jane extended her hand, indicating that Maura was to hand over the phone. Maura covered the receiver end with her fingertips and mouthed, "Are you sure?"

Jane nodded vehemently and Maura relinquished the phone.

"Ma?" Jane interrupted her mother mid-tirade. "Ma, why are you calling Maura to talk to me?"

"Because I got tired of trying to chase you down and you won't answer your phone when I call you!"

Jane sighed. "We've been over this." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't want to talk about it."

"How do you know you don't want to talk about what I want to talk about if you never _talk _to me?"

She looked up at Maura, who was watching her with trepidation. "I know because all you want to talk about is, is," she huffed out a sigh, "Casey or Frost and how I'm handling both situations really badly. _I get it, _Ma. But reminding me over and over again that I'm screwing everything up is – shockingly – not helping."

"Janie, that's where you're wrong."

Jane looked up to acknowledge the server delivering their food with a curt nod. She switched the phone to her right hand and raked the left one through her hair. "Then enlighten me," she groaned, propping her cheek on her fist.

"I'm not calling all the time to remind you of how you've failed. You've always had a knack for finding your own mistakes and beating yourself up over them until the cows come home."

She stabbed her fork down into her salad. "Gee, thanks, Ma. Inspiring words."

"Jane, listen to me. I'm calling all the time because you need to talk about it. I know you do. And I know you think I'm not helping, but I wish you'd realize that all I want to do is help, and I can't know how best to do that unless you _talk to me._"

Jane looked up from her plate at Maura. Her best friend had clearly overheard Angela's words, and was nodding slightly in agreement. The right side of her face quirked up in an expression that said, "She makes a valid point."

She passed her hand over her face, conceding. "Alright, Ma. Okay. I hear you and understand what you're saying."

"Thank you, Janie."

Jane caught Maura's eye again. "I'm not ready yet, Ma. But soon, I think. Soon I'll be ready to talk about my feelings and address things. It's the seventh inning stretch, but I'm still working some stuff out in my head."

"I hope you're not neglecting your heart in all this." There was a maternal warning in her mother's voice.

Jane's breath caught. She could _feel _Maura watching her. "I – no. I'm…taking that into account, too."

"Good. Because they're equally as important."

She could feel her throat constricting. The sensation rarely seemed to leave her these days. "Alright, good talk. I'm at lunch, so I gotta wrap up. Bye, Ma."

"Bye, sweetie. I love you."

"Yep. Love you, too. Bye." She ended the call and handed the phone back to Maura. "Sorry."

Maura shook her head. "Don't apologize. That conversation needed to happen."

* * *

After stowing the last of her notes from the day's interviews and field trips to the morgue, Jane stood at her car with the key fob in her hand, thumb poised over the trunk latch button. It seemed a solid 2 minutes passed before she made up her mind, but she popped the trunk and pulled out her gym clothes. She found herself almost smiling as she imagined the glee on Maura's face. _I ate lunch voluntarily AND I feel like a little workout. _She knew her best friend would be over the moon about it. And the knowledge brought about a flutter in her abdomen and a flush of heat across the surface of her skin.

She almost texted Maura to invite her to an evening workout in the air-conditioned gym, but ultimately decided she needed to do this alone for now. She did some of her most lucid thinking when plying the kickboxing dummy with her fists or working up a sweat on the elliptical. And she had a lot of thinking to do.


End file.
